Where Demons Dare
by Kogo Shuko
Summary: 50 Word Prompt Challenge featuring fifty short stand alone chapters about the Hollows, Rachel, Ivy, Trent, Jenks. I have more Hollows fanfics that are standard stories as opposed to such short standalones. The first story is about Ivy waiting for Rachel to wake from her coma. I ship TRENCH.
1. Coma

**Author's Note:**

**I haven't written any real fanfictions in a long time (aside from the one from Trent's POV) and this is a big challenge that I'm about to take. _Where Demons Dare_ is going to be the longest fanfiction I've ever attempted – not so much wordwise, as opposed to chapters. I am going to attempt writing 50 flash fiction chapters that are not in any order. Basically, each chapter is a stand alone, featuring at least one character, with the possibility of all the characters. It is a 50 Word Prompt challenge, and I have borrowed my 50 prompts from The Prompt Writer website.**

**I cannot promise to write a chapter a day (especially since it's NaNoWriMo starting tomorrow), but I can certainly try. At the very least, I promise that I _will_ get to the end of the 50 prompts.**

**Each chapter is going to be 1000 words or less.**

**Please review and let me know what you think!**

**If you'd like to see my list of words, I have them at my wordpress: kogoshuko . wordpress 2012/10/30/yet-another-writing-challenge/**

**Thanks!**

Ivy sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, her legs flung over the arm, and her back in the corner. On her lap sat her notebook computer. She was clicking away at the keys, trying to find out if everything that Trent had told her was actually true.

Jenks flitted about the room, dust sifting from him. He kept up a dialogue that she supposed was directed at her, but her attention was elsewhere.

She glanced to the side and looked at Rachel. Rachel lay serenely in the bed, oblivious to the world around her and what was about to happen in the next few hours.

Shaking her head, she went back to her search. As far as she was aware from everything she'd found, Trent's magic would work, although there were repeated warnings that elven magic was wild, and therefore never safe. But it was the only way to get Rachel back, and Ivy was willing to risk it.

She closed the notebook, and stood, stretching her long body after being scrunched up in the chair for so long. She slipped the computer into her bag and then headed for the door, "I'm going to get a coffee," she informed Jenks.

"I'm staying here. I don't trust that cookie maker to wait until we're here to do whatever it is he plans on doing," Jenks muttered, and Ivy smirked as she left the room.

She knew what Trent had planned, and if it weren't for the gravity of the situation, she would have found it completely hilarious. But as it was, Rachel's life hung in the balance, and Ivy was too strung out to feel more than a remote sense of humour about the situation.

But she knew without a doubt that Rachel would be waking up mad if this whole elven magic business worked out.

Ivy moved silently down the stairs and out into the open cafeteria of the hospital. She poured herself a cup of the rancid caffeinated beverage they called coffee and paid for it before heading out to the front of the hospital to watch people enter and leave. She spotted Kalamack entering the building after her third sip of the sludge.

She strode forward, and met him before he was able to press the button to call the elevator.

She said not a word, but he was already making eye contact when she stopped next to him. "When are we waking her up?" Ivy asked.

"Well, now is as good a time as any," Trent said as the doors to the elevator slid open and he walked in. She followed beside him, graceful and silent.

"You better not screw this up, Trent," she said, her voice low. "Because if you do…"

Ivy let the threat hang in the air between them.

Trent scowled, the ugly look marring his handsome features. "I know what I'm doing," he said.

Ivy's tension grew. "I want her out of this coma now."

Trenton turned on her, his green eyes flashing, "And you think I don't? I'm going to do this, and I'm going to do it right."

Ivy sensed more than she saw him clench his fists – or what was left of them. She knew she was getting on his nerves, but she couldn't help it. This was Rachel, after all.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open silently. Both of them stepped out and headed down the hall to Rachel's room.

Jenks was seated on Rachel's headboard when they entered the room. Ivy looked around until she spotted Bis, still asleep, and then sat back down in her chair, gathering her legs close to her. Trent sat down on the edge of Rachel's bed, causing Jenks to take flight, "Well cookie maker, now's the time to prove yourself," Jenks said, making erratic circles around the elf's head.

Ivy was surprised to see Trent take the insult without getting offended, and she briefly wondered what had transpired between the two blond haired men while they had been away.

Trent pulled out his silly ribbon and hat and set about preparing himself for the charms he was about to do. He looked over at Ivy momentarily, and she was surprised to see self-consciousness in his eyes. "I don't suppose you would leave?" he asked quietly, and Ivy shook her head.

Sighing, he turned back and began to speak in a language that Ivy didn't understand and yet somehow recognized. After a few sentences he stopped, and was silent. Ivy leaned forward, but nothing happened, although she noticed when Trent's hand reached out to grasp Rachel's.

More silence hit her, and she was about to sit up and interrupt when she watched as Trent finally lowered his head, bringing his lips to Rachel's. After a slow, awkward kiss there was a brief pause, and then Trent kissed Rachel again. Only this time, Ivy watched as Rachel seemed to respond. And then she knew Rachel was responding when her arms went up and her hands found their way into Trenton's wispy, baby-fine blonde hair.

Jenks landed on the foot of the bed and then he took off again, staring at them kissing, and then he said, rather loudly, "Tink's pink dildo, all that money and he can kiss, too!"

And then Rachel's eyes had opened, "You little prick!" she cried out and smacked Trent. Jenks laughed as he flew to Ivy, and she smiled, not quite able to laugh with him. She was trying her best not to cry as she realized that Kalamack had indeed kept his promise and brought Rachel back to her.

Rachel was safe.


	2. Warmth

"Tink's titties, is it ever cold out there!" Jenks griped as he flew into Rachel's bedroom through a pixy hole that she still hadn't covered up.

But Jenks' remark fell on no ears, as he realized her room was empty. Wings clattering, he flew out into the sanctuary, making a beeline for Rachel's desk. The children had already moved into the nooks and crannies and Jenks had just been through the stump to make sure nothing important had been forgotten.

It felt odd to be moving everything into the sanctuary without Matalina, but he knew it was a necessity, if he wanted to continue protecting his garden during the warmer months. Being able to stay out of hibernation during the winter months was useful in ensuring the plants remained in his possession.

Jenks flew into the desk, but found no children. All of the furniture was where he had demanded it be put, and from what he could tell, almost everything was in order. So where were the kids?

Jenks walked to the edge of the desk and looked out. It was suspiciously quiet in the sanctuary. He took off, his wings sifting blue dust behind him, as he made his way to the warm glow of light from the kitchen.

He was met with the sound of his children throwing splat balls at Bis, who was catching them and letting them pop in his hands to absorb the water. As the gargoyle absorbed the water, he slowly gained size. Rachel was opening the oven to check on the homemade pizza resting on the top rack. Jenks zipped over to her, landing on her shoulder to peer into the oven.

"Looks good," he piped up when he saw the golden cheese bubbling on the edges of the crust. The warmth of the oven finally warmed the chill from him that he had gained by staying outside too long, and Jenks had his hands out to warm them before Rachel closed the door and straightened.

"Is everything set?" Rachel asked, as she walked to the sink and pushed around the dirty dishes without making an effort to begin washing them.

"Yup! Thanks for picking up that spearmint. It'll give the little ones something to take care of," Jenks said, as he stood up on her shoulder and walked the short distance to where her arm curved down. He lifted his wings and took off to land on the ladle above Rachel's spelling counter.

Rachel shrugged, and then pushed her hair out of her face as she finally started to fill the sink with soapy water. "I'm glad you're home this winter," she said quietly, and Jenks felt rather uncomfortable.

"Yah, well, who else would take care of the plants?" he griped, but he too was glad that he was spending the winter in the church, rather than somewhere else.

After all, these were his friends. This was his home.

This was where he belonged.

Jenks smiled as he flew over to his children, picked up a splat ball of water, and flung it at Rachel.


	3. Shadows

Bis spread his wings wide and extended his feet to land on the roof of the Basilica. His claws dug into the stone as he positioned himself away from the other gargoyles. He looked over at them, but they seemed content at just ignoring him.

Moving slowly, he slid farther into the shadows and looked out over the edge of the church to look at the people wandering below. The top of the Basilica reeked of pigeon poop, but Bis didn't mind. He hadn't been around in a while, and he was looking for a few moments of fun in his free time.

He was large and heavy with retained water, and as he sat in the shadows and peered down, he watched as the priest left the building. Breathing in, he let loose a volley of water, aiming straight for the man's head. He giggled to himself as the man stopped in his tracks, and looked up at him.

Bis slunk further back to hide from the man's prying eyes, and was rewarded with the man shrugging and turning back away.

Bis leaned forward again, looking for the next target. When he spotted the regal woman with the fur coat, he gleefully shot an arc of water in her direction. It splattered over the soft mink fur of her collar and she cried out in disgust. He watched her try to brush the water off from his position on top of the Basilica.

The humans never suspected.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked a gravelly voice behind him. Bis jumped in surprise and turned around to see Dukath.

"Nothing," came Bis' quiet reply.

"It's one thing for you to come looking for guano, it's another for you to come back to start up your hijinks again. Get the hell off our roof," Dukath said, and Bis grimaced.

He had been kicked off the Basilica for spitting on people, and Dukath wasn't one to forget.

"I promise I'll be good. Just let me stay for a bit," Bis pleaded, but the stony glare Dukath gave him sent him scrabbling away.

He lifted his wings and took off, heading to his church. He loved living with Rachel and Jenks, but he sure missed being able to get up to mischief. Hardly anyone ever walked by close enough to get a good shot.


	4. Sunset

**AN: My GOD! NaNoWriMo is kicking my butt! Like, big time. I'm having trouble writing this novel compared to the last three. The story is in there, but darn it if it doesn't want to come out. I plan on going for a few walks to sort out they story while I exercise, but in the mean time I decided I'd start the day by writing this instead of my NaNoWriMo portion of the day. Otherwise, I wouldn't be getting any other fiction written.**

**I hope you like the small chapter about Trent. It's similar to "The Longer the Waiting" in what he's thinking about Rachel, but that's what the word "Sunset" inspired in me.**

Trent sat in his favourite chair on the patio, staring out over the tops of the trees. The sunset had changed the sky to a gold, pink, and purple painting above the silhouettes of the trees. Here in Trent's little outdoor alcove, it was already dark. He picked up his tea and sipped on it, contemplating the present.

A lot had changed in the past few months. A lot. He was pretty sure he was happy with the changes. Lucy was in his life now, and he vowed to keep the changes constant. No more killing unless he absolutely had to.

But what of Rachel?

He flexed his hand around his tea cup. Ah, she was an issue, wasn't she?

A demon in a witch's body; that was what she was. But she had her own values and ethics, not letting either culture dictate how she should act and feel. She was real. He loved the way her emotions and thoughts played across her face while she thought. They were fleeting, like the colours of sunset, but they were there for him to see.

While she had changed in the past few years, that one thing about her never had.

He loved being able to know how she felt. It gave him the upper hand, but it also gave him the ability to understand who she truly was. And he liked who she was – a lot. And yet, she _was_ a demon. She was, in theory, a sworn enemy by birth.

But why must she be an enemy? It wasn't her choosing to be _what_ she was. She had no say in that. And it was quite clear that she wasn't like the enemy. What did make him uneasy was that she obviously cared for some of the demons. They were evil, through and through. Couldn't Rachel see that?

Trent finished off his tea, and looked back out over the trees. The colourful scenery was now gone, leaving a dark blue sky that was beginning to light up with stars.

Trent stood and headed into the house, intend on seeing Lucy and Ray.


	5. Motorcycle

**AN: When I first saw the word Motorcycle, I instantly decided that it would be a story about Ivy. But when I sat down to write it, I decided to write it from Kisten's perspective. It's the same story I had in mind, and yet completely different, because it focused on his feelings for her. **

**Kisten had been my favourite character for the longest time, and I had difficulties getting over the fact that he died. I even wrote a few chapters of a fan fiction in which he visited Rachel in her dreams after his death. So, at this point, this is my favourite chapter. **

**And of course, this takes place before Kisten's death. :)**

Kisten was lying on the couch staring up at the ceiling of his boat, being lulled into a doze by the rocking of the water when he heard the sound of Ivy's motorcycle. Kisten didn't move. If she was coming to see him, then she'd let herself in. Ivy really had no sense of ownership and privacy at times.

He heard her light footsteps on the upper deck and closed his eyes. She was walking angry, her heels clacking purposefully on the wood. The door to his cabin opened and Ivy stomped down the stairs, heading straight for Kisten.

"What is it now?" he asked in a bored voice, his fake British accent missing.

Ivy stood next to the couch, waiting for Kisten to open his eyes. He was tempted to leave them shut, see how long she would stand there in silence, but he could feel the aura she was pulling and new it wasn't worth the mess. He finally opened his eyes and turned to look at her.

Ivy was wearing her working leathers, and by the look of her mussed up hair, he could tell she had been working a case before she had come to harass him. "Well, aren't you looking ravishing," he said as he sat up.

"Why are you playing this game?" Ivy asked suddenly.

Kisten cocked his head and squinted up at her. "What game? Honestly Ivy, I know you think I'm following your train of thought, but I can't get inside your head."

He stood but Ivy moved to get in his way. He finally looked into her eyes and noticed that her pupils had already gone completely black. Jesus. She had showed up already vamped out. "Seriously, what is it?" he asked.

"Why are you pursuing Rachel?" Ivy asked, and Kisten finally realized that the pheromones she was giving off were strong. He felt himself being unwittingly turned on.

"Why Ivy? Are you jealous of her?" he purred, leaning close to her to breathe her in.

Ivy moved liquid fast to put one finger on his chest and push him away from her. "Don't be an ass, Kist," she said quietly. She was holding her tension in quite well, but Kisten could still tell, even without the eyes and pheromones, that she was worked up.

Kisten shrugged his shoulders and moved away from her, heading for the little kitchenette. "I thought we had an agreement. We're no longer an item. We can date whoever we want."

"So you choose Rachel?" Ivy asked with ice in her voice.

Kisten looked over his shoulder, "Is that a problem? Look, we've been over this, too. I'm not going to touch her blood." Kisten smirked, "Well, unless she asks me to."

Ivy growled behind him. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Kisten scowled and then turned on Ivy, "Why does this have to be about you?" he asked, a wine bottle in his hands. "Has it even occurred to you that maybe I'm pursuing her because I see things in her that even you don't see? That maybe I have my own reasons for liking her?"

Ivy moved back a step. She narrowed her eyes, "You've never said a word about that. Every time you've brought her up, it's been to rub it in my face that she'd rather date you than her."

Kisten shrugged, "So? Everyone prefers you to me, Ivy. Everyone!" He felt his own pupils begin to dilate as he worked himself up, "Even Piscary prefers you to me!"

Ivy's eyes opened wide in surprise at Kisten's sudden outburst. "So maybe, just once, I want someone to want me more than you! And she does! For once, I've found someone who has no intention of stepping over me to climb a ladder. And that means the world to me."

Kisten's shoulders slumped suddenly. He was tired. He and Ivy had grown up together, had lived together. And still she could not see that she was the favoured one. He was just a substitute to everyone waiting to get their own chance at Ivy. She was the golden prize while he was just a mere game piece.

He set the bottle of wine down carefully, and then turned his back on Ivy. "Get off my boat," he said quietly.

For a minute, he thought she wouldn't acquiesce. But then he heard her footsteps head up the stairs onto the deck of the boat and shortly after the sound of her motorcycle kicking into gear. Kisten took out a wine glass and poured himself some red wine and then went back to the couch.

His calm mood was gone, and now the boat reeked of vampire. He slugged back the wine and reached to open the window. Despite feeling high strung he was still adamantly sure about Rachel.

She wanted him and needed him more than she ever would Ivy romantically. And that alone would have made him love her unquestioningly. But she was more than just love. She was a strong, capable woman with so many different facets to her personality, and he had fallen head over heels when he had realized just what a woman she was.

And she loved him. Him.


	6. Airport

Quen stood in the airport terminal, watching the flow of people rushing by. Many were headed to the luggage carousel, but others were heading straight for the door. He searched the crowd, looking for any suspicious activity but finding none.

When he spotted Trenton moving through the crowd, he stepped forward. He was anxious to return home, back to Ray and Ceri. The fact that he had let Trenton go on this business trip on his own spoke volumes as to where his heart lay now. He had a family, and their protection and wellbeing was placed equally beside his employer's. When Trenton had asked to go on his own he hadn't even argued.

He figured letting the young business man go on his own was a good idea. Trenton had proven himself capable of protecting not only himself, but others, in the past few months, and Quen decided it was time to loosen the leash a bit. If so doing gave him more time with his family, then he could only consider it a win-win situation.

Trenton threaded his way through the crowd as he straightened his tie. His hair was flattened against his head, and Quen smiled quietly to himself, knowing that he must have fallen asleep on the plane. "Sa'han," Quen said, falling into step beside Trenton and leading him toward the car park. "How did the meeting go?"

"Fine, Quen, fine." Quen moved on in silence, but Trenton changed his tune. "It was dreadfully boring, to be honest. I would have much rather be home with Lucy than sitting with those stiff, uptight buffoons."

Quen tries not to laugh but a stray snort escaped him and Trenton glances at him. "Are you okay, Quen?"

"Never been better, Sa'han," he replied, opening the door that led to the car park. Trenton passed through without pausing to wait for him, knowing Quen would catch up. Within a few quick paces, Quen was back at Trenton's side.

Trenton eyed him. "Let's head right back home. I want to see Lucy. And I'm sure you'd like to get back to work, right?"

Quen refused to let his emotions play over his face, but he was hoping to spend the afternoon with Ceri and Ray. Ceri had mentioned bringing the baby to the zoo, and he wanted to be there the first time Ray saw the animals.

He glanced at Trenton to find him smiling. "I'm just kidding, Quen. I know you want to spend time with Ray."

Quen raised an eyebrow at his boss, "Alright, and Ceri, too," Trenton conceded.

They walked up to the limo and Quen opened the door for Trenton.

"I really wish you would have brought the Jaguar," Trenton griped as he got into the car.

Quen closed the door a bit too forcefully, cutting out the younger elf's complaints. He was going to go home and spend some time with his family, and this made him extremely happy.

He walked around the car and slipped into the driver's seat. He started the car and began to manoeuver it through the car park, heading for the exit.

From the back seat, Trenton was droning on about work. He quickly tuned the man out and focused on his surroundings. He prided himself in being prepared for all situations, and he tended to dismiss Trenton's monologues in order to keep himself ready for a security breach.

Ah, but it would be a nice afternoon spent with just his family.

Quen smiled a tiny smile.


	7. Ancient

Newt sat on the rock.

She was playing with her image again, trying to figure out what she liked best. She was becoming particularly fond of Rachel Mariana Morgan's physical appearance, but she was still attached to that of the dying child.

Frustrated, she transformed her face into a scowling mask of death and rage.

She looked around herself, but found no lesser demons to mess with. They had all gone into hiding the moment she had appeared on the surface. The landscape was dry and barren, with a red hue to it. She rather liked the colour, but if she had a choice between this and that of reality, she'd choose reality in a heartbeat.

She closed her eyes, and her face became that of Rachel's. She opened them again, and scanned the ancient land. Crumbling cliffs created a hallway in front of her, leading to who knew where. But she did know that wherever it led to, the distance was getting shorter. And this worried her very much. At least when she could remember to worry about it.

She had no idea what had caused the rip in their little drop of time, but she knew eventually time itself would run out. They had nowhere to run unless they fixed the rip - which she highly doubted would ever happen - or if they could somehow reverse the curse that had imprisoned them here. She didn't think that was very likely either.

They were all ultimately screwed.

All this time spent in this place, and it would all be gone soon.

And _Rachel_ would still be on the other side of the lines.

At times she loved Rachel. At others she loathed her. This was one of those other times.

The little bitch didn't deserve to be the demon allowed to spend all of her time in reality. That right should belong to Newt, the one _true_ female demon. And yet the little whippersnapper had stolen that right from her. She wanted to make her pay, but she couldn't.

She was stuck here.

And even though she was able to escape her babysitters, she always ended up being caught again. It was inevitable. Sometimes she was pretty sure she wanted to be caught. Like right now. She was sitting here doing nothing. She knew she'd be picked up again, slapped on the wrist like a naughty child, and forced to forget why she had come to the surface.

But then, why _had_ she come to the surface?

She knew there was a reason, but she couldn't figure it out. So really, maybe if they caught her and forced her to forget… maybe she'd remember what she had forgotten. Then she could escape again. It really wasn't all that hard. Just wait until backs were turned and *poof* off she went.

She transformed into the dying child and stood from the rock. She looked around, and then headed toward the slim hallway between the cliffs. Maybe whatever she had come to do was that way.

She moved on, wondering if Rachel would ever let her be her friend.


	8. Window

Matalina stood in the middle of the pixy hole, one foot on the outer sill of the window, while the other was on the inside. She could hear her older children fighting over who got to keep the butterfly wings from their recent kill.

She sighed, and leaned against the screen. She was happy that Jenks had become barren, as she was feeling much better than just a few seasons ago. But did she ever miss the hustle and bustle of having little ones to take care of.

She wished she could take it back, so that she could become pregnant again, just so she could hold a newling in her arms again. She thought of Jih, across the road, making a life of her own. Soon she would have her own pixie buck to call her husband, and then she would have newlings to take care of.

Matalina, on the other hand, would still remain without newlings. And she knew she wouldn't be visiting her daughter when Jih took a mate. It just wasn't the way of pixies.

She thought of Jenks, and smiled wistfully. He was changing the world, and she loved him for it. Every shirt she made him was made with every drop of love she had for him. He was the sun in her life, and she knew that. Even without the newlings, she was still happy, if not a bit melancholy. For even though childbearing was past her now, she still had her love, and he still showed her how he loved her.

She tingled just thinking about how she showed her. She flitted her wings, letting a cascade of golden yellow dust sift from her. It was caught in the wind and whirled away, into the sky.

Jenks was away, but as soon as he was back, she was going to show _him_ just how much she loved him. She knew her time was shorter than his, and she wanted to appreciate every single minute.

She flew from the window and zipped into the stump she called home, heading for her bedroom. A naught smile played across her lips.


	9. Angel

Ceridwen sat in Rachel's living roiom, her daughter, Ray, sitting on her lap. She had brought both Ray and Lucy over partially to visit Rachel, but also to introduce the children to the little cat that the pixies owned.

Rex, the cat, was stalking pixy children, slinking low to the ground as the little girls flitted above. Ray was completely oblivious to the cat, but Lucy was crawling after the cat, intent on catching her. Rachel was in the kitchen tinkering around, and Ceridwen knew that she was using the good teapot. Ceridwen smiled to herself.

Trenton had issues with Rachel, but deep down, she knew he cared for her. She herself knew just what a wonderful person Rachel truly was. Despite being labelled as a demon, Ceridwen knew that Rachel was closer to being an angel, if they did exist.

Rachel was what Ceridwen had to consider her best friend. The woman was extremely loyal and would protect her friends and family to the end. And Ceridwen wished that she herself could be so thoughtful. Sadly, she knew she was still just a bit too vain, and she aspired to be more like her friend.

At the same time, though, there were certain things that Rachel did that were shockingly aggravating. Sometimes the girl was just so naïve.

Ceridwen shook her head as she remembered nearly throttling the witch. She set Ray down gently and scooted across the floor to catch Lucy before she grabbed Rex's tail. She was heading back to her own daughter when Rachel came in with the tea.

Rachel set the teapot and cup next to Ceridwen and sat next to her, her own cup of coffee sitting on the tray with the cookies. She picked up Lucy who was reaching her hands toward the cookies and bounced her on her knee. "So how did you get these two away from Trent?" she asked.

Ceridwen smiled mischievously, "I have my ways, Rachel."

Rachel just shook her head, "You amaze me, Ceri," she said.

Ceridwen just shrugged. "The girls need to get away from the compound sometimes, and I'm adamant about it," she said simply, and picked up one of the baby cookies and handed it to Ray.

She peeked out of the corner of her eye at Rachel, who was staring at Lucy with such fondness in her eyes. There was no way Rachel was simply a demon. Things were never that simple.


	10. Roses

I let the front door of the church swing shut as I struggled through the entryway carrying the groceries. I felt the breeze of Jenks' wings as I made my way across the sanctuary, heading for the kitchen.

"You've got mail," Jenks announced.

I went into the kitchen, "What did I get?" I asked as I set the groceries on the counter closest to the fridge and opened it to see if we had enough room inside. I started moving things around as Jenks lighted on the top of the door, "It's something from your secret admirer," he announced.

I straightened up, and looked at him. "What?" I asked, as I turned back to my groceries.

"You've got _flowers_," Jenks said, and I heard the glee in his voice.

"Flowers?" I asked, putting down the tomato juice. I looked around the kitchen.

"Ivy put them in the living room," Jenks said and flitted out of the room, dusting a pale yellow.

Forgetting my groceries, I followed him. I stopped in the middle of the living room, staring at the giant bouquet of roses sitting on the coffee table. Ivy looked up at me, her legs dangling over the side of the couch and her laptop perched on her knees. "Yah, that was my reaction, too. Who the hell would send you _that_ many flowers?"

"Is there a note?" I asked, as I knelt by the coffee table and stared at the blood red buds.

"Yes, but Ivy wouldn't let me open it," Jenks pouted, and I grinned at Ivy.

Ivy shrugged.

"Well, open the damn thing, Rach!" Jenks said, hovering above the flowers.

I searched the bouquet until I found the little note card and slipped it from the holder. I stood, and edged away from Jenks to open it in private, but he hovered by my left shoulder, intent on reading it with me.

"Jenks," I snapped, "A little privacy?"

Jenks cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, "You expect privacy? Really?"

Rolling my eyes, I ripped the tiny envelope open and pulled out the tiny card. The smell of cinnamon and wine hit me, and I felt my heart drop as I realized it was from Trent. Trent was sending me flowers? Why?

I flipped the card open and quickly read the inscription. _Meet me at Carew Tower at eight. Wear something nice._

I stared at his cursive script, my mind racing. Why did he want to meet me? Why would he get us reservations at the tower? He couldn't possibly...

Could he?

I heard Jenks fly away from me, toward Ivy. "The little cookie maker is asking Rachel out on a _date_!" he announced.

I whirled on him, but found Ivy eyeing me suspiciously.

"It's not a date," I snapped. "He probably just wants backup again."

Ivy arched an eyebrow while Jenks struck a Peter Pan pose, "And he does that by sending you _roses_? How dense can you be?"

I threw the tiny card onto the coffee table. "It's not a date!"

Ivy closed her laptop and stood, stretching her long limbs. "I don't think it's a run if he sent you flowers," she said, bending to smell them.

"It's a bribe, then. To do something I'll probably say no to."

Ivy looked at me, and flashed a white grin at me, her teeth showing. "Yes, date him."

I scowled, and left the living room. "It's not a date"! I called over my shoulder, heading for my bedroom.

Or was it?


	11. Innocence

Ivy sat at a table at Piscary's, a large pepperoni pizza sitting in front of her. The large glass that had held the freshly squeezed orange juice sat empty beside the pizza. She was still hungry.

Kisten sauntered by, "Why so glum?" he asked, letting his fingers trail on the table.

Ivy shrugged, "I'm horrible at this," she told him.

"Horrible at what?" Kisten asked, sliding into the booth next to her. His familiar scent calmed her and she relaxed just a tiny bit. Ivy motioned to the empty glass in front of her. "Staying off blood," she said simply.

Kisten threw an arm over her shoulders casually. "Why are you even bothering?" he asked her, and she glared at him.

Kisten quickly removed his arm, "It's about that girl, isn't it?"

Ivy shut down, her eyes going distant.

Kisten pulled a piece of pizza from the pie in front of him and bit into it. The warm cheese stretched a ribbon from his lips to the piece in his hands, and if Ivy had been in another mood, she would have enjoyed the visual effect. But as it was, she was sitting in the booth thinking about the redheaded girl that had been her partner.

She knew that if she had a shot at Rachel, it would not include blood, and she had been trying her best to abstain from drinking blood in order to convince herself that she was capable.

"Why are you even into her?"  
Kisten asked, interrupting her inner thoughts. She slid her gaze over to him, and he shrugged. "It's her innocence, isn't it?"

Ivy raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think it would be her innocence?"

Kisten shrugged and polished off the last morsel of crust from his piece of pizza. "She's innocent. She refuses to give her blood. It's driving you nuts. She'll give in, Ivy. Just pursue her."

Ivy shook her head. "I don't want her to give in, Kisten. I want her to come to the decision on her own."

Ivy reached out and picked up a piece of pizza and started munching on it.

"You love to tease yourself, don't you?" Kisten asked. "The more the pain, the better."

Ivy shrugged, refusing to reply.

Kisten stood up. "Whatever, love. You do what you want. Just don't expect me to follow in your footsteps. Giving up blood for a piece of ass. That's stupid."

Ivy watched as Kisten walked away.

But was it really?


	12. Imagination

Jenks stood on top of the stump, watching his youngest children fly around, plastic pixy swords in their hands. They were having a mock war, and the little plastic blades clashed against each other as the children squealed with delight and mock fear.

Jenks knew they were acting out a story he had regaled them with not that long ago, but he couldn't figure out where some of the colourful phrases and manoeuvers came from. He shook his head and smiled, wondering if he had ever had an imagination as vibrant as that of his children.

He watched Jrixibell tumble through the air, and Jenks lifted into the air to catch her, but she quickly regained her balance and flew back toward her siblings, her bright green sword thrust in front of her. Smiling, he settled back down on the roof of his home. His children were growing up. Play like this taught them lessons in how to fight and how to flee, and he knew they would take that knowledge with them when they finally left.

He became melancholy, wondering what he would do when all of his children left. He would be by himself. No children, no newlings, and definitely no Matalina. His wings twitched and black dust fell from them to spread around him. Sure, he had Rachel and Ivy, but they were a poor substitute for his family. He loved every single one of his children, and he was glad he was able to watch them grow. But he would certainly miss them when they went.

Jrixibell came flying at him, "Papa!" she called out, her voice high with fear. Behind her trailed three of her older brothers, all of them carrying splat balls. Jenks rose into the air, temporarily forgetting his pain, as he pulled out his pixy steel, ready to slash the splat balls before they reached his youngest daughter.

"Bring it!" he called, and he watched as his three boys gleefully launched their missiles at him.

Moving with lightning quick speed, he sliced into the first splat ball with his sword, and then moved to deflect the other two with his blade. The stray balls went flying toward the tree, harmless.

"I don't recall this part of the tale," he said as he rose into the air to meet his children. They surrounded him, everyone giggling.

Jenks couldn't even imagine a world without the children that he loved so much.


	13. Options

Pierce stood in Al's kitchen, his heart beating fast. It was almost time for Rachel to appear, and as always, he felt an intense desire to hold her in his arms – after murdering Algaliarept. He was always torn when Rachel showed up in Al's rooms. He hated to see the lovely witch so close to the damned demon, but it was also the only time he was able to lay his eyes on her as well.

Al popped into the kitchen and immediately glowered at Pierce. "Make the tea!" he growled, and then disappeared before Pierce could even react.

Sighing, Pierce turned to the cupboards and began to search for the tea. Every time Pierce put it away, it always seemed to move. Pierce couldn't decide if Al was moving it or if it was moving on its own. He really didn't want to dwell on that.

He quickly found the tea and started the kettle to boil over the hearth. He knew that Rachel wasn't a fan of tea, but he couldn't very well pop over to reality and pick up a coffee. Tea would have to do for his lovely lady witch.

He was just setting two cups of tea on a tray when Al came back into the room. "How long does it take to make bloody tea?" Al said, as he grabbed the sugar bowl and slammed it on the tray. Pierce cringed and picked the tray up. Al grabbed him by the collar of his coat and he felt himself shift into the next room. He opened his eyes to find Rachel sitting in Al's armchair.

Rachel looked over at him and her green eyes lit up, "Hi Pierce," she said, and Pierce felt his heart hammer.

"Mistress witch," he said, as he offered her the tray.

She picked up one of the cups and he watched as she loaded the tea with sugar. He wished he could give her something she'd enjoy, but everything tasted burnt down here and he knew she went most of her time eating only what she had to.

In an effort to speak to her, he smiled down at her, "Your fish is doing quite well, mistress witch. If you'd like to see him after your lessons, perchance Al will let you come to the kitchen."

Rachel nodded, "Sure, Pierce. Thanks for taking care of him for me."

Pierce smiled.

"Either clean the place up, or get back to the kitchen," Al grumbled, pulling up a chair next to Rachel.

Pierce glared at the demon's back and then moved to the fire to make sure the flames were high enough for the demon.

He listened as Rachel and Al began to talk about the lessons she would be working on that day. Hearing her voice was a lovely moment, and Pierce began to enjoy himself as he picked up the books Al had left out.

Pierce knew without a doubt that he was in love with Rachel. Every chance he could see her, he would take. But he also knew he was just one of her many options. It tugged at his heart strings to know that he wasn't the best option for her. Instinctively, he knew she would abandon him for better things.

But he could still enjoy her company until then. And if he had to take that with Al's abuse, that was fine. He'd get himself out of here one day, if it was the last thing he did. And then he'd show up at Rachel's door and offer himself as more than just a demon's familiar. He would prove his worth to the mistress witch, and then maybe he'd be more than just an option.

Pierce glanced at Rachel, and thought he had never seen a more beautiful witch in his life.


	14. Nurturing

**Today's chapter is about Newt long before Rachel came into existence. This takes place before Ku'Sox convinces Newt to kill her sisters. I would love some more reviews! :) I appreciate the ones I've gotten so far, and I'm happy that people are enjoying my flash fictions! Thank you! :)**

Newt touched her hand to her belly. She felt the stirrings of the baby within her and smiled. She couldn't wait to tell her sisters. She had not been pregnant for quite some time. She dropped from the rock she had been sitting on and headed across the field.

All was calm and quiet in the ever after.

Closing her eyes, she popped herself from where she was to her sister's quarters. Lamashtu was lashing her familiar when Newt showed up, and she immediately put the whip away. The familiar disappeared and Lamashtu smiled invitingly at her sister.

"Newt, how lovely to see you," she said, but Newt could tell she was lying. Lamashtu had always been jealous of her.

Newt sat in Lamashtu's favourite chair, taking this opportunity to annoy her sister all the more. "I have wonderful news, Lama," she said, crossing her legs daintily.

Lamashtu glowered at her sister and sat across from her. "And what, pray tell, is this news?" she asked, refusing to play the game of proper manners.

"I am with child," Newt said smugly, and watched as her sister started in surprise.

"Whose child?" Lamashtu asked.

Newt shrugged, "Does it matter? It's mine, and I will take care of it."

"Do you really think you can do it on your own?" Lamashtu asked, and Newt felt anger stir within her. "I would hardly call you the nurturing type, after all."

"I do not need your help," Newt snapped at her sister. The ungrateful bitch wanted to take what did not belong to her. Newt would not let anyone take this child from her. She had kindled it, and she would raise it.

She stood from her sister's chair, no longer feeling the smug desire to rub the good news in anyone's face. She just wanted to go to her own bed chamber and lay down. She wanted to commune with the child that was within her. "If you're going to act like that, I'll just leave," she said stubbornly, and her sister raised her hands.

"By all means, Newt. I wouldn't want to keep you or anything."

Without replying, Newt moved from Lamashtu's to her own bedchamber. But when her body returned to the reality of her small room, she felt something shift inside her. Her eyes grew wide as she felt a sharp stab of pain in her middle.

"No," she whispered.

The pain became intense and she curled up into a ball, tears of pain falling from her eyes.

Not again.

She lay on the floor of her bedchamber, losing her child. She had been so excited. She had successfully carried it long enough that she had assumed she was safe. But obviously she had been wrong. Now she would never get to prove Lamashtu wrong. She was nurturing, damnit. She would be a good mother!

Some time later she awoke. The pain was gone, but the sticky mess on her floor was proof that she had lost the life that had been stirring within her. She popped her familiar into the room and forced him to clean up the mess. She went to her study to be alone. Tears continued to stream down her face.

Would she never be a mother again?


	15. Passion

Trent was sitting in the common area of his living quarters. Ceri was sitting in the chair across from him. To her right was the play pen for the children and both girls were fast asleep next to each other. Ceri, as always had a cup of tea in her hands. Soft jazz was being piped into the room, and Trent was staring out the magicked window, contemplating the coming holiday and his lack of real family or friends.

He had Lucy. And he supposed he had Ceri and Ray, and Quen to an extent. And that was really it. He realized that he was pretty much friendless. He had so many business contacts, but not one of them could he invite to a Winter Solstice dinner. Or any holiday dinner.

He knew who would be surrounded by family and friends though. Rachel.

Trent felt something stir within him. He tried to ignore it, but images of the solstice he had once celebrated with Rachel kept popping into his head. He sighed.

"What's got you down, Trenton?" Ceri asked, setting her tea down.

Trent glanced at Ceri, and then back toward the window. "Nothing," he replied.

"You can't just lie like that to me," Ceri said, her tone serious. "Something is obviously bothering you."

Trent shrugged his shoulders, "It doesn't matter."

Ceri stood up, and Trent looked over at her. Her fine blonde hair hung straight down her shoulders, and her pale eyes flashed with impatience. "Did I ask if it mattered? No. I asked what was wrong. Tell me."

Trent stared at her for a moment before finally replying. There was no point in not giving her a response, not when she was bent on throwing a royal tantrum. "I was just thinking about the holidays, that's all," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Ceri quickly sat back down in her chair, picking up her tea. "The solstice has got you down? How come?"

Trent was quiet, thinking about it. "It occurred to me that the only family I truly have is Lucy."

"Family isn't just blood, Trenton," Ceri said quietly.

"No, I agree," Trent said quickly, "But really, Lucy is it. You have Quen and Ray."

"And you have us," Ceri said politely.

Trent shook his head, "It's not the same, and you know it. I'm Quen's employer."

Ceri was quiet, mulling over what Trent had told her. Finally, she looked up. "What about Rachel?" she asked.

Trent felt his cheeks burn, and he scowled at the reaction. He didn't want Ceri knowing that he was confused about his feelings for Rachel, but he feared he was too obvious. "Rachel has her own friends and family," he said.

"Do you not think you are one of her friends?" Ceri asked, and Trenton glanced at her.

"Why should I be?"

Ceri shrugged, "After everything you've both been through, you think she still sees you as just a business associate? Trenton, she's your friend. If you wanted to spend Christmas amongst friends, she'd be more than happy to bring you into her home."

"She hasn't invited me; she can't possibly want me there," Trent said. He thought of spending the Solstice with her again, and knew that he would have more fun at her church then he ever would at his own compound. "Why should I want to go there anyway?" he asked as an afterthought.

Ceri studied him quietly, and sipped on her tea. "You're jealous of her, aren't you?"

Trent's hand found its way back to his hair, which he slicked back against his skull nervously, "Why would I be jealous of Morgan?"

Ceri smirked behind her teacup, "Because of the passion in her life. You're sitting there contemplating your lack of real friends, and she's probably sitting in her church right now surrounded by the real thing. You're jealous because you wish that was in your life."

Trenton stood, and started to walk away from Ceri. Interestingly, he wasn't mad at her for pointing out the obvious. He felt ashamed. As he walked up the steps, he thought better of leaving and turned back to Ceri. "So what if I want passion in my life? Is that so much to ask for?"

Ceri finished her tea and stood. She checked on the two sleeping babies and then looked up at him. "There is nothing wrong with wanting that in your life, Trenton. The question is, are you going to work at achieving it?"

Trenton thought of the group of people in Rachel's backyard, songs sung, and warm drinks in gloved hands. Did he want that again? Did he want that for his own?

He looked down at Ceri, and then nodded his head, "Yes, I think I will."


	16. Reflection

**I know this is a pretty short chapter, but I'm hoping to write one for tomorrow as well. It's the perfect word for Christmas Day. So today's is a bit shorter than I'd like. Cheers!**

Ivy was sitting at the table typing away at her computer when she noticed Rachel had left her scrying mirror lying out. Ivy's fingers froze over the keys as she stared at the little mirror lying on the other side of the table. Her eyes finally flicked back to the screen and she pressed save before standing up from her spot and walking around the table to pick up the fragile calling card.

The intricate designs on the wine coloured glass were beautiful, and the rosy hued reflection that stared back at her had a haunted look in her eyes. Ivy studied herself in the mirror, feeling a sense of unease creeping up on her. How could something so beautiful be a connection to something so evil?

She broke eye contact with her reflection and moved to the centre island to tuck it away between Rachel's spell books. As she crouched there, looking at the unmarked demon curse books, she shivered. She loved Rachel, but a lot of the magic scared her. She knew it was an irrational fear: Rachel would never harm her.

She sat back down at her computer, but her hands hovered over her keyboard. She was terrified of Rachel's magic, and yet expected to Rachel to come up with a cure to save her soul with the same magic that she shied away from. She, Ivy, was nothing by a coward.

Why couldn't she accept what Rachel was capable of doing? Why couldn't she embrace her best friend, magic and all? She expected no less of Rachel, and Rachel always came through for her. Ivy's brow furrowed as she realized just how lucky she was to have Rachel in her life, as a friend or otherwise.

She quickly shut her computer down.

She needed to strive to be more like Rachel. To accept her loved ones as they were, and to embrace all a person's uniquenesses. She would start by no longer shunning the witch's potions. It was the least she could do. Show Rachel that she accepted her.

She stood up from the table and headed for the door.

But first, she had to slake her hunger.


	17. Festive

I stood in the kitchen, looking out at the bonfire in the backyard. Ivy had set it going, and I wasn't going to complain about her hard work. I looked down at the tray of hot cocoa I had made. So far, there was just me, Ivy, and her sister, but I knew more people were coming. Jenks' children were in the sanctuary singing solstice carols, and Rex the cat had just disappeared into the back living room, with what appeared to be garland tied to her tail.

I shook my head and smiled. It was good to be surrounded by friends, even the ones who liked getting up to mischief. Jenks buzzed into the room, intent on chasing his cat when he stopped in midair and turned to me. "The phone is about to ring."

Sure enough, it went off seconds later. Grinning to myself, I picked it up. "Vampiric Charms," I said, deciding to be professional even though it was the Solstice.

"Morgan," came Trent's voice, and I felt an involuntary shiver run down my spine.

"Trent," I said smoothly, ready to shut him down the moment he asked for my help.

"I'm just calling to let you know that Quen won't be able to bring Ceri to your party," he said quietly, "But I'm getting her ready. I'll drive her over."

He hung up quickly, before I could say anything. I set the phone down on the counter, and looked at my tray of hot cocoa. Then I looked back outside to see Ivy laughing while her sister accented her story with hand motions. I quickly mixed together another hot cocoa, adding the little marshmallows to the top of the frothy liquid. I placed the tray on top of the oven, hoping that the heat from the baking cookies would keep the cups warm.

I peeked into the oven and then straightened when I heard the clatter of wings. Jenks came into the room, the string of garland trailing after him. "If you ever bring garland near my children again, Rachel, I'm going to poke your eye out."

I smirked. "Maybe you need to control your children," I replied.

"Tink's titties, Rachel, do you _know_ how many children I have?" Jenks griped. He made to head back into the living room but stopped to look at the tray of cocoas. "Why is there an extra?" he asked.

I looked over at them and then shrugged, "Just in case," I said.

Jenks stared at me for a moment, but then left.

The timer buzzed and I donned the oven mitts. I had just taken the cookies out of the oven when the doorbell rang. I set the tray down and headed into the sanctuary. Pixy girls swarmed me as I made my way to the door, and I felt my hair drift back into a neat braid before I reached the foyer and the girls disappeared in a cloud of giggles. I cracked the door open to find Ceri standing on the front step with Ray bundled up in her arms. I looked past her to see Trent sitting in one of his more conservative cars at the curb, waiting to make sure Ceri went inside.

Ceri smiled at me, "I think he's lonely," she admitted.

"Well, come in, Ceri!" I said, and ushered her inside. As she stomped the snow off her boots I grabbed my own and ran down the walk toward Trent's waiting car. Trent lowered the passenger window and leaned across the seat to look at me. I reached the car but immediately crossed my arms over my chest as I realized it was pretty cold outside. "Hi Trent. Thanks for bringing Ceri and Ray."

Trent nodded, "It's no problem. I know she really wanted to go."

"How come Quen couldn't drop her off?" I asked, hopping from foot to foot.

I watched as Trent's eyes clouded for a second, and then he smiled at me, "Ceri said something about his coming down with the flu."

I raised an eyebrow at that, and then looked back to the house. I wanted to get back into the warmth and put a coat on before heading into the backyard. I looked back at Trent and tried to see in the backseat to see if he had brought Lucy. I couldn't tell, but I had a feeling he didn't. "Trent, why don't you come in?" I asked.

Trent shook his head, "I couldn't possibly intrude. I should head back anyway. I have someone watching Lucy, but I'm sure they'd rather be doing something else."

"You don't have to stay long," I said, wanting him to agree. "Just come in for a cup of cocoa and some cookies."

I watched him start to shake his head again, and then he stopped. "Well, one cup of cocoa couldn't hurt," he said and I felt my heart warm as he turned the engine off. He slipped out of the car and I turned and ran up the walk and into the church without waiting for him. I slipped my boots off and grabbed my coat, intent on bringing them to the back door.

Trent came inside and removed his boots. As he walked across the sanctuary, he looked up into the rafters to see the decorations that the pixies at put up. "It does look quite festive in here," he admitted, and I grinned at him as I slipped into the kitchen.

I put on my coat, placed the cookies on the tray with the hot chocolate and headed for the back door. Trent was quick behind me and as I paused to put on my boots, he grabbed the tray from me. "Thank, Trent."

"No, thank you," he said, and I looked up to see him smiling down at me with warmth in his green eyes.


	18. Pristine

Ivy finished wiping off the counter and laid the damp cloth over the side of the sink to let it dry. The church was finally clean. When she had entered the kitchen with the intent on finding something to do, the mess that she had been met with had been enormous. Ivy needed to talk to Rachel about keeping the place clean.

Ivy opened a cupboard and stretched to reach her favourite mug. Once she had it sitting on the clean counter, she set about starting a pot of coffee going. She expected Rachel home soon, and she hoped the witch could appreciate the pristine condition the church was in. And if she appreciated it, perhaps she could help keep it that way for a little while.

As the coffee gurgled into the pot, Ivy grabbed a brimstone cookie and nibbled on it. Things had changed so much between her and Rachel. While Ivy was happy with how her life was leading her, and thrilled at the new relationships she had jumped into, she still loved Rachel. She knew she'd have to move out of the church soon, though.

Ivy needed to make up her mind about Rachel. Either stay and pine, or leave and lead a healthy life. She knew Rachel was squeamish at the idea of a same sex relationship, but she kept hoping the redheaded witch would change her mind. She kept hoping.

She had told Rachel she had moved on, but she hadn't. Not really. She loved everything about Rachel. Well, almost, she thought to herself with a wry smile on her face. She looked around the now clean kitchen. If only she could teach Rachel to clean up her dishes as soon as she used them.

Ivy was pouring herself a cup of coffee when she heard the front door to the church open and close. The thunk of Rachel's heels moved across the sanctuary floor as Ivy added a teaspoon of sugar to her coffee. She turned around, her smile still playing on her lips, as Rachel came into the kitchen, a bag from the mall hanging from one arm.

Rachel put the bag on the table and started routing around in it. "Wait until you see the top I found," she said, as Ivy tapped her foot on the floor, waiting for the witch to finally take notice of her surroundings.

Rachel held the top up, the gauzy black material clinging to her fingers. "This is going to look great the next time I have to go on a fancy run," Rachel said, proud of her find.

Ivy pictured Rachel in it and felt something stirring in her. "It looks nice," she quietly, putting her mood quickly in check.

Rachel finally glanced around the room, "You washed the dishes?" she asked, surprised.

Ivy shrugged her shoulders and then pushed away from the counter. "I was tired of staring at your mess," she said evenly. "I've cleaned the entire church," she continued. "So let's keep it pretty."

Rachel shrugged, and then left the kitchen, heading for her room. She had left her empty plastic bag on the table. Ivy sighed and picked it up. If only she could teach the witch how to clean up after herself, then maybe Rachel would be perfect.


	19. Creation

Algaliarept sat in his study, an old curse book open on his lap. He was flipping through the pages, looking for the correct curse. Ever since he had captured Ceridwen and made her his own, he kept testing her knowledge and knack for the curses in his repertoire. It had become a sort of game for him – to find a curse that she could not make.

Ceri was extremely talented at stirring the curses, and Al loved showing her off to his fellow demons. All that power and she was wicked in bed, as well! Al smiled to himself as he flipped another page. He kept his familiar in lavish clothes, trying to keep her somewhat content.

As he turned the next page, Ceri appeared beside him and laid out his dinner on the end table next to him. Barely thinking of it, Al switched his image to the nobleman, and he felt Ceri's eyes take in the crushed velvet and glasses. He smiled up at her, "Hello, love. What is for dinner?"

Ceri silently motioned to the plate next to him and he studied the stew. He knew it would taste faintly of burnt amber, but Ceri was very good at masking the taste with her little collection of herbs and spices. Al picked up the plate and rested it on top of his book. "You may go," he said, dismissing her.

Ceri disappeared with an audible pop, no doubt back to the kitchen to clean up her mess. Al picked up the tarnished fork that Ceri had placed on the tray and quickly devoured the meal before him. He finished it with a cup of one of Ceri's infamous teas. Once he was finished, he placed the dirty dishes on the tray and went back to his book.

Ceri had returned to pick up the tray when he found it. He stood from his chair, book in hand, "This is it!" he said excitedly, and turned his dark red gaze on his familiar. She momentarily shrunk away from him but when she realized he was excited about something _good_, she straightened herself to her full height and grabbed the tray. "What is what, Gally?" she asked.

"Algaliarept pushed the book in front of her nose. "This is the next curse you shall stir for me."

Ceri looked over the ingredients and rituals, noting how complicated it was. She read the outcome carefully, and squinted up at Al. "You want me to turn a frog into a man?" she asked, incredulous.

"Not only are you turning him into a man, Ceri girl, but you're going to give him the intellect of one as well. This will be your best creation yet!" Al grinned at his familiar and clapped his hand against her shoulder before transporting them both to the kitchen. He was pleased to find the room spotless. Ceri dropped the tray of dirty dishes on the counter and turned to the fire to add a log.

"Don't worry about the dishes, Ceri. Get straight to the curse," he said, and laid the book out on the table. Ceri watched him carefully and stepped toward the table to peer at the books again. "Well, I'm going to need a frog," she said.

Al grabbed her and pulled her to him. He kissed her on the mouth, and he felt her melt beneath his touch. "I'll get that for you right away," he said, grinning. And then he left the room, intent on finding the perfect specimen.


	20. Tapestry

I stood in Al's kitchen by the fire, warming my hands. I had just been doused in salt water after a botced earth magic spell. I had been trying to show Al how I changed into a mink, but something in the ever after air must be different, because I sure didn't turn into a mink.

Al had gone off to find something warm for me while I stood by the fire, pondering the differences between spells and curses. On the wall directly across from me was the tapestry that always seemed to move when I wasn't looking. The shadowed figure seemed to crouch in front of me.

Ignoring it, I turned my back on it and felt the warmth of the fire begin to dry my hair. I was going to look like a circus clown before the end of this lesson. Al popped back into the room behind me and I turned to face him. Behind him, the shadow figure tiptoed across the tapestry, as if sneaking up on the demon. I eyed the shadow wearily.

Al came around the fire and unfolded a blanket. He quickly threw it around my shoulders, and I winced away when the rough fabric scraped against my cheek. "For my itchty witch," he said, and the satisfaction in his voice made me look at him again. He had a smile on his face that seemed genuine, and I wondered what he had planned for the next part of my lesson.

"Shall we have some coffee?" Al asked, heading toward his cupboards.

"Shouldn't we move on to the next curse?" I asked, and Al looked over his shoulder at me.

"Why the rush, Morgan?" he asked as he removed a canister of coffee grounds from a cupboard.

"I don't know, Al. Usually you cram as much spelling into these visits as possible. Why take the time for a coffee now?"

Al shrugged, as he set about making the coffee. "You're soaking wet, Morgan. I thought I'd let you dry a bit before we moved on to the next curse."

I narrowed my eyes at him and then snugged the blanket closer to my body, trying to warm myself quicker. "You must have a curse to dry my clothes, Al." I said tightly.

Al studied me for a second, and then moved to get a tin of cookies from a cupboard. "That may be, but I rather enjoy seeing you dry slowly," he replied, and then offered the tin to me.

I took the tin but didn't trust Al's motives. Something was up. But I wasn't sure I wanted to find out what. I set the tin down on the table next to the fire and sat down. Al joined me a moment later with two cups of the rancid liquid he called coffee.

"Seriously, what's up?" I asked after taking a sip of the coffee.

I watched as he scowled, familiar with that look on the demon's face. "Can't a demon just enjoy quality time with his pupil without getting his motives questioned?" he asked, glaring at me.

I shrugged. "It's just not like you," I said.

Al stared at me for a moment, obviously contemplating something. "Fine," he said suddenly, and with a wave of his hand, my clothes were dry beneath the scratchy blanket and my hair was an unruly but dry mess. He stood, drained his mug, and paced to the counter. "Since you obviously don't want to spend some time relaxing let's get back to work."

I shouldn't have questioned him. Now I had lost my moment of reprieve, and he was cranky to boot.

I stared at the tin of cookies on the table and quickly grabbed one before standing up. As I turned to Al, the shadow on the tapestry caught my eye. It seemed to be sitting on a chair, with its head thrown back in laughter. I glared at it for a second before joining Al at the counter, ready to start my lesson.


	21. Lavish

Ceri opened her closet, looking for a new top to wear. Unfortunately, Ray had spit up on her dark green cashmere sweater. Ceri's tiny fingers flipped through the shirts and dresses that lined her closet. Ever since moving in to Trenton's estate, Quen had been supplying her demand for beautiful clothes. Dark greens, blues, and purples took up the majority of the closet, but there were softer, paler colours as well.

Not everything in the closet was store bought. Some of her more lavish clothing were hand sewn, and were reminiscent of the clothes she wore long ago, before she had become Algaliarept's familiar. She pulled out one of the tops that she had sewn, and held it up, feeling the soft satin pool through her fingers. She wanted to wear it, but she was afraid Ray would spoil it as well.

She loved her daughter, and motherhood was treating her quite well, but Ceridwen still felt an attachment to her royal colours. She loved her clothes, no matter what she wore. Each outfit was picked out with much thought, even if no one noticed but herself. Ceri might be aging again, and she was okay with growing old, but she still wanted to dress properly.

She put the fine silk shirt back and finally picked a soft, mauve cardigan. If Ray spit up on this shirt, it would not be the end of the world. She pulled off the dirty cashmere sweater and shrugged into the cardigan, buttoning it up. The soft fabric seemed prickly in comparison to the first top she had been wearing, but it was better suited for her activities.

Satisfied with her new outfit, she left her rooms, headed toward the living area, where she had left Ray and Lucy in the care of Quen. When she stepped lightly down the steps, she found that he had cleaned the baby up, and was just tying the stained rags into a bag.

Ceri smiled at Quen as he stood. Ray crawled toward her father, intent on grabbing his pantleg. The sight brought tears of happiness to her eyes. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed Quen. His strong arms slipped around her waist and he rested his forehead against her own. "Thank you for taking care of that," Ceri said quietly, and she instinctively felt him smile at her.

"You know," Quen teased, "maybe Ray was doing you a favour. You look much better in this thing." He tugged on the bottom of the cardigan and she smiled at him, her eyes holding a mischievous glint. Ray finally reached them, and she felt her daughter pulling at her pant leg. She looked down to find Ray reaching up with her arms, demanding to be picked up.

Ceri bent down and picked Ray up, but turned back to Quen, kissing him again.

She may not be living the royal lifestyle she had been born into, but Ceri was infinitely happier here. She had Ray, she had Quen, and that was enough for her.


	22. Historical

**I apologize, but what was posted was not the right chapter. That was an older chapter. I feel guilty now. But here it is! **

Trent was cocooned deep within the compound, staring at the artifacts his father had left in his name. He had come down to the vault to pick up an item for Quen, but he found himself wandering, staring at each item that had been meticulously filed away. Old furniture, jewellery, Elvin artifacts – so many pieces of time trapped in a concrete bubble deep within the earth.

He walked along the aisles, stopping to stare at the crib that he himself had slept in when he was just a tiny baby. He couldn't remember those moments, but he spoke a few words of magic and he closed his eyes to hear his mother singing a soft lullaby. If he didn't move, the Elvin magic would hold the lullaby to the end, but if he opened his eyes, the spell would break.

Trent let his breath go when the song ended and he opened his eyes, looking down at the crib again. The old wooden bed had held more than just him, and it wasn't in the vault for the nostalgia, but rather the historical aspect. His great grandmother had first used this crib, and even though the sturdy piece of furniture was strong, it was too incredibly old to use with children today.

He moved on from the crib, heading in the direction of the other toys that were in the vault. Some of the toys were ancient while others seemed new, and Trenton picked up an old stuffed bear, feeling the rough fur beneath his fingers. This was kept more for the nostalgia, he knew. And this was what he had come to get. A toy from Quen's own childhood, his chief of security wanted to hand it down to his own daughter.

Trent's eyes roved over the small selection of toys before him. Some he recognized from his own childhood, but many others had become battered at the hands of both of his parents. And even more still belonged to Quen, and even Jonathan.

His eyes lingered on a stuffed rabbit, knowing that his own tiny fingers had matted the faux fur when he had been just a little boy. He quickly grabbed it and turned away from the toys, heading back toward the front of the vault. If Ray could have a toy then so could Lucy. Satisfied that he had gotten what he had come for, Trent turned off the lighting and then closed his eyes.

And he performed the magic needed to get back to the real world.


	23. Mistletoe

**This character and time frame were chosen by a friend and fan of the series. I hope you enjoy what I've come up with. :)**

Nick lay on the bottom of the cage, his legs splayed out in the wood shavings. His cage had been covered with a blanket to keep the cold out, but Nick could still see the passing scenery through a hole in the blanket. The cage swung back and forth in time with his owner's strides. Nick sniffed the fresh air coming into the cage. The scents of car exhaust and sweaty humans bombarded him, but it was better than the smell of his dirty cage.

He moved to the edge of the cage and looked out at the people walking by. The slush on the sidewalks squished under snow boots, and the glaring lights of stores cast a garish glow all around. He grabbed the bars of his cage in his front paws to keep himself steady as he watched the flow of humanity all around him.

His whiskers stopped twitching when he saw the couple kissing in the doorway to a bookshop. The man had curved his body into the woman's and their kiss was long and deep. Something stirred within Nick, and he desperately wished it was he that was kissing the blonde in the bookstore archway. As he watched them kiss he realized that they were standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

Time had become meaningless to him, and it was with a shock that he realized it was Christmas. He backed away from the hole in the blanket and nestled into the wood shavings in the middle of his cage. He hated this existence, and every time he killed a rat, he imagined that he was killing the vampire that had made this happen.

He didn't know _when_ he'd become a human again, but when he did, he'd appreciate his humanity all that much more. He missed the comfort of being able to touch another human being. The kissing couple reminded me of skin on skin, the tingle of a caressing touch. Nick wrapped his long tail around himself, covering his nose with it.

When he got out of here, he'd make quick time finding someone to touch. He imagined his fingers tracing the curves of a lady, any lady, and he tried to fall asleep.


	24. Mythical

**As the release date of Ever After looms closer, I get more and more excited. So I'm thinking I might try to finish my Flash Fictions before the release date! If people like my flash fictions enough, I might be willing to try another 50 words after I finish these. It just depends on how many people want me to. :)**

I was sitting across from Ivy in the living room, eating leftover Chinese food straight from the box. Ivy was going over some maps, circling points that she deemed important.

"What exactly are you looking for?" I asked, crunching into a cold slice of broccoli.

Ivy glanced at my briefly before going back to the maps. "A unicorn."

I stopped chewing on the broccoli. "Uhm, Ivy, they don't exist."

She ignored me, and began flipping through a stack of paper sitting next to her maps.

"Ivy, they're mythical creatures, for crying out loud." I flung a water chestnut at her, and I watched as she flicked it away before it could land in her hair.

"Rachel, at one point humans considered _us_ mythical creatures. Don't be so sure something doesn't exist just because you've never encountered one before."

I chewed on my food, thinking about that. "But they aren't listed as an Inderland species."

Ivy shrugged, "So they're good at hiding."

"Who wants you to find it?"

Ivy put down her papers and stretched her arms above her head, getting the kink out of her back. "Rynn has given me the task," she said, trying to sound casual.

I stared at her, "Rynn Cormel?" I set my food on the coffee table. "Well, if Cormel is asking you to search for it, they must be real."

Ivy glared at me, "He knows the territory of the stallion, and he's intent on finding it."

"What for?" I asked, plucking at a tear in my sweater.

"What do you mean what for? He asked me to do something, so I'm doing it," Ivy said, the edge in her voice warning me that I was asking the wrong questions.

I stood, "Well, I'm just worried he's going to do something illegal. Just because they aren't listed as an Inderlander species doesn't mean that what he has planned is morally right."

Ivy glowered at me, and I shrugged. "Good luck with your run, Ivy. I'm going up to the bell tower."

I left the living room, intent on getting away from her before she pulled an aura on me.

Unicorns were real? Well, I guess anything was possible.


	25. Romantic

Kisten lit the candles on the tiny table in his galley. Rachel was coming over soon, and he wanted the mood just right. Humming to himself, he went to his small wine collection and picked out a bottle of red. He placed it next to his spot at the table but opted to put out both wine glasses. He knew Rachel probably wouldn't have any, but it didn't hurt to have it out.

Once the table was set, he went into his bedroom and picked out a pair of black slacks and a dark blue silk shirt. He slipped into the clothes quickly and made sure he looked fine in the mirror. Once he was satisfied, he grabbed his keys and headed onto the deck. He hopped down off the boat and made his way across the pavement toward Piscary's. It was early in the evening and the parking lot was only half full.

He opened the door to the pizza place and stepped inside. He paused to inhale the aroma of cooking tomato sauce and smiled to himself. It was great to be in charge. He wound his way through the tables, saying hello to the patrons before making his way into the kitchen.

"Hey boss!" one of the cooks said as he pulled a pizza out of the brick oven. Kisten leaned over the pizza to inspect it. The tomato sauce under the cheese smelled divine and the cheese itself was still a bubbling golden goo.

"Is this one mine?" he asked, refraining from pulling out a pizza cutter and slicing into it right there.

The cook shook his head, "No, you're order is over there," he moved his chin in the direction of the Styrofoam packages and then turned with the pizza to bring it out to a table. Kisten moved across the kitchen and opened each package, making sure everything was in order. Once he was satisfied, he picked them up and headed back out to the boat.

Back in his kitchen, he quickly removed the pasta, pizza, and bread from the packages and put them on platters. The Styrofoam packaging quickly went into the garbage, thus completing the illusion of a home cooked meal. Satisfied that the romantic setting had been prepared, Kisten quickly covered the platters to keep the food warm and turned on the stereo. He popped in a CD of soft jazz, and sat back on his couch, waiting for the sound of Rachel's heels on the deck.

A thrill ran through him at the thought of having her on the boat again. God, he was falling in love with that witch.


	26. Visionary

Jonathan walked down the hall toward Trenton's office. When he reached the door, he knocked and quickly entered without waiting for a reply. Trenton was sitting at his desk, studying his agenda. Trenton looked up and nodded at his advisor. "How can I help you, Jonathan?" he asked.

Jonathan's eyes strayed to the corner where the mink cage used to sit and he felt his good mood sour at the fact that the little witch had escaped. "I've come to ask about our shipments, Sa'han," he said, returning his gaze to Trenton.

"Ah yes," Trenton replied, flipping through the agenda to study the next few days. "We have a brimstone shipment tonight and Friday as well."

Jonathan's foot set to tapping, "What about the biodrugs, Sa'han?"

Trenton shrugged, "There's no need for a biodrug shipment this week. There'll be one next Wednesday. That's plenty enough."

Jonathan scowled, unimpressed with Trenton's decision. "If there's no need for the biodrugs, then why the brimstone shipments?" he asked.

Trenton shrugged, "In order to keep the IS and FIB off our scent, Jonathan, it's important to keep the brimstone shipments coming in, whether there is a biodrug shipment or not. That way, they won't be connected easily."

Jonathan wondered if this was the real reason. "Or are you more interested in supplying the city's underground with the drugs they crave?" he asked.

Trenton looked up from his agenda once more, "Excuse me?" he asked, his voice icy cold.

Jonathan glared at him, "With all due respect, Sa'han, I feel like you're abusing the system that your father has set up. The man was a visionary, and you're just meddling with the hard work he put in to establish such a fine institution. I sometimes wonder if you're really capable of living up to him."

Trenton stood from his desk, and Jonathan realized he had gone too far. He backed up a step, but refused to break eye contact.

"I am running this business as I see fit, Jonathan. And if you don't think I'm doing a good job, then perhaps we should discuss your terms of employment," Trenton said, coming around his desk and facing Jonathan.

Jonathan's blood ran cold. "No, no, Sa'han. There is no need. I was only stressing the differences in how you and your father have run this business."

Trenton raised a pale eyebrow, "If that's all, then you may go."

Jonathan nodded, and quickly slipped from the office, closing the door softly behind him. His heart beat a quick cadence as he marched back down the hall. He realized he had gotten off easy that time. But if he continued to question Trenton's authority, he knew he wouldn't be here for much longer.


	27. Shamrock

**When I saw this word, I knew I had to write about the leprechaun that gave Rachel her wishes. I couldn't tell you if this was before or after Rachel caught her, but I'm thinking it was before. The only thing that ties this story into Rachel's universe is that we, the fans, know her past. :) I hope you enjoy this one. I liked writing it. **

The leprechaun sat in the green field, eyeing the blanket of four-leaf clovers that surrounded her. It all started with one simple shamrock. She had come to this clearing in search of the one shamrock. When she found it, she had conjured the bed of four-leaf clovers in preparation for the rainbow.

She looked up at the cloudy sky, squinting her eyes against the fine mist of rain coming down on her. These were perfect conditions for rainbows. She smiled to herself and moved from her sitting position to her knees, letting her hands sink into the find clovers beneath her.

She closed her eyes and began to chant, feeling the clovers move closer to her. As her chant grew more insistent, she felt the little green plants circle her wrists, taking the magic into themselves. She physically felt her magic leaving her veins, and in those moments, she felt as though the clovers were a part of her. She could feel them right down to their roots as they sucked her magic dry.

Her Gaelic words mixed together as the magical force became stronger, and soon she was chanting only in open syllables, the sound of her voice turning into music that only nature could produce and understand. When she could no longer do even that, she fell to the ground, exhausted. The clovers cushioned her fall.

She lay they for a few minutes, breathing in the scent of the green things beneath her, until finally, she cracked open an eye. She looked ahead of her to find the beginnings of a rainbow sprouting from the bed of clover in front of her. The misty pastel colours were much more vibrant up close, and she craned her neck to see how far up the rainbow went.

The misty arch rose above her and beyond her, heading far into the sky. The leprechaun slowly got to her feet and started off toward the other end of the arch. Her bare feet slipped against the wet grass, but soon she was running through the woods, and the ground was drier. She continued to run under the arch of the rainbow, her heart beating quickly.

Soon the sound of her feet hitting the ground was lost to the pounding in her head. She could feel it. The end was so close. And then she burst from the trees to see the end of the rainbow just up ahead. And at the bottom of that beautiful, radiant, mist was a large black pot. She instinctively knew there was gold there, and she sped up. She reached the pot moments later and her hands were delving into the gold coins inside, her green eyes alight with greed.

"Me gold!" she cried out, stuffing the gold into her pockets, before pulling out an empty sack, which she also began to fill. When she was finished, she stepped back from the pot, and fished in her breast pocket to pull out the shamrock that had allowed her magic to bloom.

"Thank ye," she said to it, kissed it, and then dropped it in the pot. When it hit the bottom, there was a hiss and a bang, and the pot disappeared. She looked up to watch the rainbow break apart, the shards of colour bouncing away into the sky until nothing was left.

Whistling, she turned away, heading in the direction of the nearest road. She'd bum a ride back into town and then cash in her gold. Sometimes, there were bonuses to being a leprechaun.


	28. Bravado

Jenks' wings buzzed a warning to his children as he watched the fairies make a beeline for the plants that grew in the graveyard. They would reduce the weeds in that section of the garden to mere roots in just a few short days, and then they would move on to his prized plants. He was not going to let them touch even one blade of grass.

He heard his children line up behind him, a flying wall of defensive warfare at his disposal.

"The moment they even touch down on pixy land, we attack," Jenks told his children, and he heard chirps of agreement. The passel of pixies floated at the edge of the garden, watching as the fairies landed among the tombstones.

Jenks scowled and pulled out his sword. "Attack!" he called, and flew forth in his typical show of bravado, egging his own children on.

The fairies were quick to retaliate, baring their own blades to fight back.

The sounds of tiny blades clashing in the overgrown cemetery could be heard from the street, and a woman walking her dog stopped to stare into the long-forgotten graveyard. She quickly moved on when she saw only butterfly wings flashing in the sun.

The fight was short lived. The fairies hadn't been prepared for the onslaught from such a large pixy clan, and soon Jenks and his children were flying home, fairy steel the plunder from their battle. Jenks landed on top of his stump and looked out over the cemetery. No fairy would steal his land. He'd make sure of that.


	29. Campfire

David sat by the campfire, warming his hands. The rest of his pack were already changing into their wolf bodies. He was waiting for them to finish the change before he started the process himself. He looked up from the flames as the two wolves came out of the tent that he had pitched earlier that night. They had decided to take full advantage of the full moon being on a weekend, and had gone camping far enough away from civilization that David felt safe that his new pack members could roam free without encountering any people.

When he was satisfied that both women had withstood the change properly, he swallowed a bit of wolfsbane himself and entered the tent. He personally didn't care if they saw his transformation, but they seemed so shy about it that he respected their wishes.

He quickly removed his clothing and sat down on the sleeping bag. He closed his eyes and began to were, taking his time. He came out of the tent twenty minutes later, padding across the ground toward the two female wolves sitting by the fire. Their fur glinted in the firelight and he thought them both very beautiful.

His heart began to beat quickly at the prospect of running with them under the full moon.

He had never meant to have his own pack, but now that he did, he was seeing the benefits of it. He motioned with his head toward the trees, and the two females followed him. He loped into the trees, sniffing the air as he went. When he caught the scent of a rabbit, he barked a simple command and they took off in the direction of the scent.

The three werewolves tore through the woods, and when they finally caught the rabbit, David let the women take the kill. Afterward, they lifted their noses toward the moon and let loose howls that rivalled even that of real wolves. In the distance, they could hear other werewolves responding.

David felt the need to run. To run free forever.

The world was so big, and it was his to run through.


	30. Cocktail

Piscary dropped the petite blonde on the floor, having filled his craving. She lay in a heap, moaning from the blood loss and pleasure he had inflicted her with. He picked up a handkerchief and wiped his mouth clean of the blonde's blood as two escorts came into the room and quickly lifted her off the floor. He glanced back as they helped the woman walk unsteadily to the door.

Piscary sat down next to the fire, staring into the flames. He could hear Kisten moving down the hall toward him, and he closed his eyes against the frustration he felt. Piscary could wait forever for Ivy to willingly become his scion, but she herself only had so long to live her first life. He enjoyed Kisten immensely, but he was a toy rather than an equal and he'd rather keep the boy at the relationship level he deserved.

But Piscary knew that if he waited for Ivy to come to him of her own will, it would be that much more sweet. For now, he would have to put up with the little drama boy. The door to his chambers opened and he sniffed the air to gauge Kisten's mood. The young living vampire seemed to be in a good mood.

He stood from the fireplace and turned to look at Kisten. "Kisten," he said warmly, moving forward to embrace the vampire and kiss him squarely on the lips. He felt the boy fold into him with eagerness and he moved back.

Kisten's blue eyes looked at him curiously, but then he quickly recovered and held up the papers in his hands. "I have the weekly reports to go over with you," he said politely, and Piscary gestured toward the armchairs by the fire. Kisten moved toward them, and Piscary followed.

Once Kisten was seated, Piscary stood by the fire, holding the poker. He half listened as Kisten went over the sales and numbers for the pizza parlor that sat above them. He poked at the fire while Kisten discussed the pros and cons of buying from a new distributor. Kisten was the perfect business manager, but being Piscary's scion was so much more than that. There were things that Kisten simply lacked.

His thoughts strayed to Ivy again, thinking of the delicious cocktail of pain and pleasure, blood and sex that he had introduced into her life. He knew she would eventually come crawling back to him, but he was growing impatient. He knew it was his own fault, introducing her to that little witch. And now he couldn't even kill the little redhead without jeopardizing his relationship with his favourite little vamp.

He sighed, and Kisten stopped talking. "Is something bothering you?" he asked quietly, and Piscary turned to look at him.

"It's nothing important," he told his scion, and then beckoned to him. "Please, come here. Forget the numbers."

Kisten dropped the papers and pulled himself out of the chair. Within seconds, Piscary was on him, kissing the living vampire, feeling his pulse beneath his skin. He ran his fingers over the boy, enjoying the responses he received. He could already feel Kisten's sexual desire. Now he only had to choose where he wanted to feed upon the boy. His lips grazed Kisten's neck and he felt the living vampire squirm beneath him in pleasure. Ahh, this would suffice.

For now.


	31. Chocolate

I pushed the shopping cart through the grocery store, browsing the aisles slowly. Jenks was sitting on my shoulder, chattering non-stop. I pushed a few cans of tomato paste into the cart, and then a packet of pasta, thinking pasta and a salad would make a good supper that evening. Ivy was out on a run and I had no idea when she would be back, so I'd be eating alone.

As we passed by the condiments, Jenks tugged on my earring. "Look, the honey is on sale!"

I eyed the little bottles shaped like bears, and shook my head. "We already have some," I told Jenks.

"So? Look how good a deal that is!" Jenks said as I walked past them.

"We don't need a drunken pixy in the house," I informed him, "Let alone a whole brood of them."

Jenks pouted on my shoulder as I turned down another aisle. I kept shoving items into the cart, and soon I had a mix of spaghetti sauce ingredients, vegetables, and boxed foods. Jenks continued to sulk quietly, and I felt the need to get him talking again, even if I had to tune him out.

"How about a chocolate bar?" I asked him.

I felt him rub his wings together and knew that pixy dust was falling down my back. He finally spoke. "What sort of chocolate bar?" he asked petulantly.

I grinned to myself. Sometimes life with Jenks was like living with a six year old. I headed toward the checkout lines, "I'll leave that entirely up to you," I informed him.

We waited in line at the checkout and I began to load the groceries onto the belt. Jenks hopped off my shoulder and onto the belt to stand with his hands on his hips as he looked up at the assortment of chocolate bars enticing last minute decisions out of innocent patrons.

He finally lifted off from the belt, just as it started moving. He flew over to the small stack of Skor bars and picked one up. The chocolate bar was as long as he was tall, and it accentuated just how tiny my partner was. He carefully lowered the chocolate bar onto the package of spaghetti, and he smiled in satisfaction. "Perfect!" he said.

I grinned at him, "You got it for the toffee inside, didn't you?"

"I happen to _like_ Skor bars, thank you very much!" Jenks said, and flew back to my shoulder.

I shrugged, hoping to dislodge him, but he was staying put. I knew the sugar in the chocolate bar was just as bad as honey, but at least it wouldn't make as much of a mess if someone accidentally dropped it.

"I wonder if the kids have been keeping a good eye on the church," Jenks muttered to me, happy again. "If they haven't, I'll be keeping this chocolate bar to myself!"

I smiled to myself. Jenks was a great partner, but an even better friend.


	32. Cinnamon

**When I saw the word "cinnamon" on the list, I knew it would have to be about Trent, but something changed my mind Perhaps it was the dreams I had of horses last night, or perhaps because it's because I haven't been to the barn in weeks, but I suddenly had an idea to write about Tulpa. The horse really isn't a character, but I love horses, so I'm making it work anyway. ;)**

**Thank you so much for the reviews! I feel honoured that my shorts seem almost like the real thing. :)**

Tulpa sniffed at the hay that had recently been put in his stall. He had just been brought in for the night after a nice, relaxing day out in the fields. He had spent the first part of it racing across the green grass, feeling his legs stretch over the ground. Afterward, with a few moments of kicking his heels to the sky he had opted to lie down and roll in the dirt nearest the stable, relishing the feeling of the rough dust rubbing against his coat.

After his roll he had finally settled down to eat, and spent most of the day cropping the short, green grass that had begun to shoot up now that spring was here. Eventually, the stable hand had come to bring him back inside and Tulpa had stood patiently while the boy had groomed him. He was a bit disappointed that the dust was gone from his coat, but the feel of the curry comb and later the soft brush was equally as refreshing on his itchy skin.

Tulpa primarily hated the changing of the seasons. Shedding sucked. Tulpa paused his examination of the hay to shake himself from head to tail, trying to rid himself of the fur that had come loose since his grooming. Satisfied that he had dislodged a few more hairs, he lipped at the hay and finally started chewing his evening meal.

He was thinking about the freedom of his youth as he made his way through the netting of hay when the scent of cinnamon and wine came to him. He stopped chewing for a second, his right ear twisting toward the front of the barn. He heard the door close quietly, and he swallowed the hay he had been chewing on.

He moved across the stall to the door and stuck his head out into the aisle, whickered a greeting as his master, Trenton, walked into sight. Trent was wearing Tulpa's favourite outfit: his riding clothes. He knew this wasn't a new moon, so he instinctively knew that Trent wanted to go for a ride alone, to most likely clear his mind. Tulpa loved these excursions, as he wasn't forced to trail after the loud, smelly dogs. Instead, Trenton often let him have his head and he was free to pick his own way through the trees.

Trenton grabbed Tulpa's halter and slipped it over the horse's head. He scratched behind Tulpa's ears after fastening it, and Tulpa leaned into the door, trying to get closer to Trenton, enjoying the sensation. After a few moments, Trenton stopped and slid the door to the stall open. Tulpa stood back to let the door slide to the side, and obediently followed his master into the aisle.

Trenton quickly hooked two lead lines to Tulpa's halter, securing the horse in the centre of the aisle as the lines were tied off on either side. Tulpa, used to this, stood patiently. Trenton fetched the grooming kit and started to groom the horse down. Tulpa didn't mind the extra grooming, and soon was relaxed to the point of sleep.

He knew when Trenton had finished grooming him when the elf asked him to lift his front leg. Tulpa obliged, and soon Trenton was finished checking all of his hooves. Satisfied that his horse was in top condition, Trenton disappeared for a moment before returning with his tack. He hung the bridle on a hook nailed into the wall and was soon throwing the saddle blanket over Tulpa's back.

Soon the saddle was tightened and Trenton was slipping off his halter to put the bridle on. Tulpa helped by shoving his nose through the leather straps and opening his mouth for the bit willingly. It had been some time since Trenton had last rode him, and he was eager to spend some time with the man. Once the bridle was secured, Trenton took the reins in his hand and led the horse out of the barn. Under the moonlight, he quickly jumped into the saddle, and Tulpa settled himself underneath the man's weight. Within seconds of getting into the saddle, Trenton was pressing his knees lightly into Tulpa's side, and the horse set off at a slow trot. Trenton signaled to move faster, and Tulpa put forth a burst of speed.

The two set off across the open fields, heading for the woods. There was a bounce in Tulpa's step as he moved through the night, his bright eyes happy as his rider moved fluidly in the saddle. He loved his master.

**As a rider myself, I love horses, and if I could pick a familiar, I'd choose one as well. ^_^**

**Below are links to a horse that could very possibly be Tulpa. Except in the summer, he turns from a black to a bay. He really honestly looks like two different horses sometimes. **

** . /2012/10/404136_10151184925864594_1934150622_ **

** . /2013/01/facebook_ **


	33. Groovy

Al was eating his evening meal when he felt the sneeze coming on. He glanced at Ceri, swore, and then accepted the call, popping out of existence.

He felt his body return and he opened his eyes to find himself trapped in a circle in what had to be the ugliest basement he had ever seen. Sitting in a circle around his protection circle was a group of witches. They were obviously high on brimstone, and possibly something else, for they rocked back and forth, their eyes half closed as they chanted something incomprehensible to him.

"A bunch of fucking hippies," he sneered, quickly changing his appearance to an armed American soldier. He heard a few hisses from the circle, "Love, man, not war."

Al sat himself down in the middle of the protection circle, crossing his legs in imitation of the witches who were chanting to him. "What precisely do you want?" he asked, curious.

One lady moved forward. He noticed the daisies braided into her hair. God, he hated this decade. More people were getting high and summoning him just to ask how the weather was in the everafter. The lady with the flowers settled herself next to the protection circle, as close as she could get to Al without breaking the barrier. "We've summoned you to help you understand that your ways are wrong."

There was a murmur of ascent all around him and he groaned. "Just groovy," he sneered, and poked a finger at the bubble. He pulled his hand back when he felt his skin begin to sizzle. The circle was strong. "And just how are my ways wrong?"

"Killing is bad," the lady said. "Make love, not war."

The hippies around him nodded, smiling their little half smiles. Al felt like ripping all of their heads off.

"You need to be one with nature, man," another hippy said from across the circle. "Embrace the world around you."

Al raised an eyebrow and wondered if he could fool these idiots into letting him out. His clothing turned into a red mist and then suddenly he was wearing a fringed jacket and bell bottom jeans. The witches around him all nodded their heads and smiled, "Awesome, man!" one called out.

"So what you're saying," Al said slowly, "is that I should stop killing the witches who summon me and let me go."

The woman with the daisies nodded her head, "Right on!"

Al scratched his head, pretending to consider the notion. "What else?" he asked, looking at the lady in front of him.

"Embrace what the world has to offer," she said, gesturing behind her to what he could only assume were their drugs. He could tell just from looking that there was definitely more than just brimstone on the low coffee table.

Al smiled around at the hippies, "Are you suggesting you want to… drop acid with me?" he asked, and he was satisfied to see them all nod their heads. The idiots wanted to let him out so they could experience their high at a completely different level.

Al suddenly nodded his head, "Alright. Cool. I like this idea. No killing. Just love…" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the lady in front of him. She giggled and blushed, and he knew he was almost free.

Al stood up. "I will be good," he said quietly, "I'd like you to show me love."

The hippies stood up, everyone smiling. "Righteous," someone murmured, and he watched with glee as they all moved forward toward the circle. No one had demanded he not harm them. They were only suggesting it! They were going to set him free!

He held his breath as they all reached forward and touched the circle. He laughed as the layers fell down. The lady with the flowers moved toward him and placed her hands on his chest. "Love," she whispered and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Al put his arms around the lady, and let his hands sink into her hair, and as her lips brushed his, he pulled her head back, revealing her pale, white neck. He grinned maliciously at the group of witches around him and then let his form turn into a terrifying combination of monster and soldier. He opened his jaws, his razor sharp teeth glinting in the candlelight, and ripped into the woman's flesh as the rest of the witches screamed in terror.

It didn't take him long to kill them all, and when he was finished he headed for the stairs, intent on enjoying his freedom until the sun rose. He looked back on the scene of death and destruction, and sneered. "I fucking hate hippies."


	34. Happy

Belle sat on the pixy chair, sewing together a new shirt for Jenks. It was difficult learning how to sew something for a pixy, but it was harder for her to get used to live with no wings. She sighed and leaned farther back in the chair, her back pressing against it. It no longer hurt, having no wings, but there were times when she felt completely helpless.

She broke off the thread and then held up the shirt, admiring her stitching. Jenks was still getting used to her style of clothing, but she thought the pixy looked very handsome in the fairy clothing. With just the right angles, he looked taller than he was, and she felt she was looking down at him less.

She quickly folded the shirt, and put it away, not ready to give it to him. She stood and stretched, wondering how humans could possibly think this was a comfortable way to live. Not being able to fly limited her abilities to pretty much anything. But on the other hand, humans were so large that the wings her kind had would never have been able to support them.

She left the stump, heading toward the garden, intent on weeding between the plants. The one thing she enjoyed most about living with the pixy clan was being able to watch the plants thrive under her care. As a fairy, she used to come into a garden and simply kill the plants to get at the bugs that hid under their leaves and between the roots. But Jenks and his children had taught her how to care for the plants, and she found that an ample supply of bugs came through the garden daily to keep her well-fed, and perhaps even a bit too full.

She had quickly learned that she rarely had to compete for food with the pixies, and in fact working together created a harmony in the garden that everyone enjoyed. Belle picked the bugs off the plants for her meals, thus ensuring that the pixies had healthy, strong plants to help supply their own food. It seemed, to her, a win-win situation, and she wondered why the two species never stopped to consider such a truce before.

She was humming to herself, pulling thin blades of grass out of the ground when a medium sized beetle landed on the plant beside her. She still couldn't name most of the plants in the garden, but Jenks was slowly teaching her. She stared at the beetle for a few seconds, and then shot her hand out and grabbed it before it could fly away. It buzzed angrily as she picked it up, but she quickly crushed its delicate underside, killing it instantly.

She set the bug down next to her and went back to her weeding. She would prepare the bug later, she decided, with an herb rub that Jrixibell had introduced her to. But for now she'd continue to weed the garden. She smiled to herself, feeling the satisfaction in knowing that she was helping the plants thrive. It felt good to care for the plants, rather than tear them down. It was nurturing. And it made her happy.

She paused in her weeding. Was she happy? She missed her wings, and she certainly missed her clan, but she realized that she really _was_ happy here. The pixies had shown her what balance was, and she was glad that she was taking part in it. So while there were moments when sadness overtook her, Belle was surprised to find that overall, she was satisfied with her new life. It wasn't something she would have chosen, given half a chance, but with bleak options this was simply an amazing opportunity.

Belle smiled to herself as she went back to pulling the shoots of grass up. Yes, a fairy could get used to living like this.


	35. Sad

Pierce stood by the kitchen sink, looking out the window at the graveyard. The fallen angel marked the spot where his body lay. Pierce sighed, and the curtains moved slightly. He heard the sound of paws padding along the floor and he turned to find Rex, the orange kitten staring at him.

He crouched and reached a hand out toward the kitten, but it immediately hissed at him and flew into the back living room. He was still crouching when Rachel walked into the room, groceries in her hands. He stood to his full height and moved out of her way as she set the bags on the counter. He moved closer to her to see what she was unpacking from the bags. Tomatoes, cheese, and quite a few vegetables left him smiling.

He had never tried a pizza but the smell of them made him wish he had a physical body to try one. He also wished he could brush the hair back from Rachel's eyes as she stooped to put the vegetables in the crisper. He backed up to the table and sat on the end of it, watching the witch move about the kitchen, putting everything away. She was graceful when she didn't think she was watching. If Pierce had had a heart, he knew it would be pounding.

He was so concerned for the witch. She was playing with fire, dealing with that demon, and he wished he could warn her. But he was reduced to a mere breeze and changing her ringtone. He noticed her purse sitting on the counter next to the almost empty grocery bags. Lying beside her purse was her cell phone. Grinning to himself, he pushed off of the table and crossed to the phone. When Rachel moved out into the hall to go to her room, he concentrated and picked the phone up.

It was hard to move objects, but the phone was small enough. With enough concentration, he flipped through the songs on her phone and picked "Born to be Wild" as the ringtone and quickly set the cell back on the counter before Rachel came back in. When she did, she had removed her coat and shoes, and wore a tank top that showed off enough of her arms and chest that Pierce quickly looked away, embarrassed.

She had no idea he was here, watching her. He wished he could talk to her again. She had been quite a woman back when she had given him a temporary body, and she was even more so now. He moved next to her, at least able to breathe in her scent. As he concentrated on her, Rex came padding into the kitchen again, and stopped in her tracks to stare at him. Rachel looked down at the kitten and moved a step toward her. Rex hissed, and bolted for the sanctuary.

Rachel sighed, and slumped against the counter, looking out the window.

Pierce followed her gaze and saw the fallen angel again. The realization that she was staring at his grave without even knowing it made Pierce sad. She was attracted to his final resting place without knowing it. He knew they had a connection, he just wished he could use it to communicate with her.

He laid a hand on Rachel's shoulder and watched as she shivered, bringing her sweater closer to herself. If he could have cried, Pierce would have. He feared that he loved the woman.


	36. Hurt

Jenks thrust his sword into the fairy and watched as its eyes rolled up. Feeling satisfied, he withdrew the sword and watched as the fairy tumbled off the flower planter, hitting the ground below. He sheathed his sword, and put his hands on his hips. Another day at protecting the little planters he and Matalina called home. He turned, ready to go back to her, when he felt a pain in his side.

He looked down only to find blood dripping from his green shirt. He felt his face blanch, "Matalina!" he called, frightened.

Injuries were always serious when you were a pixy, and the sight of blood made Jenks feel woozy. He heard the clatter of Matalina's wings as she flew back to the now safe planters, three newlings in her arms. "Did you get them all?" Matalina asked, surveying the flowers.

"Matalina, help!" Jenks said, holding a hand to his bleeding side.

Once she was determined that their patch of dirt was safe, Matalina carefully put the newlings down and turned to face her husband. "Jenks!" she said, concern in her voice as she rushed over.

She helped Jenks get his shirt off and examined the wound before pulling thread and a needle from the folds of her dress. "Stand still," she commanded and Jenks closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain. He caught his breath as he felt the needle slide into his skin. He was mostly silent as he felt her sew the cut shut and when she was finished she bit off the end of the thread with her teeth and straightened, running her hands over the rest of his body to make sure he was alright.

"What did I tell you about getting hurt?" she said, her voice scolding, yet relieved as well.

Jenks finally opened his eyes and looked down at her handiwork. The skin was puckered up over the wound with the thread holding everything together. It wasn't pretty, but it wasn't bleeding. He took Matalina in his arms and kissed her hard, "I'll do my best not to next time," he murmured, and kissed her again.


	37. Mountain

Keasley sat on the porch, listening to the cicadas in the trees across the road. He had new neighbours at the church. From what he could tell, there was a living vampire, a witch, and a new group of pixies laying claim to the garden out back. The vampire had been there for some time, but he could tell the witch didn't know. He also knew that they were both ex-I.S. runners.

He lifted his cup of coffee off the little table beside him and took a sip. He remembered when he had left the I.S. It hadn't been pretty. But the witch seemed to be surviving, at least by the seat of her pants. From what he could see from his vantage point, her survival hung on a balance of protection from her friends and sheer dumb luck.

His own escape from the corrupt Inderland Security had been a close call, and he had only managed to get away by faking his own death. Ever since then, he had had to live his life low-key, and anytime he suspected someone knew who he truly was, he'd pick up and move on.

He had been living a simple life for some time now, but as he sat in the summer heat, he thought back to the hurdles he had to jump, the mountains he had to climb to get to this very spot on this porch. He had hoped that this would be his last move, but he suspected there would come a point where someone had to leave. There were too many former I.S. employees living on this street.

He finished his coffee, watching as a cloud of pixies flew over the roof into the front yard of the church. He could hear their tiny voices rise in excitement, and he noticed they were chasing butterflies. He decided he would stay for now. If the witch needed help, then he'd be here for her. He had the experience, even if he was too old to do much these days.

He stood up, straightening slowly as his joints ached in protest. It might be nice seeing runners, hearing their stories. That is, if they managed to survive. He hoped they did. And he hoped that the witch wouldn't have to be running away from the problems that came with quitting. He knew she had her own mountain to climb, and her own hurdle to jump, but he hoped he would be able to help her along, even if just a tiny bit.

Keasley slipped back into his house, ready for his midday nap.


	38. Rain

Bis sat on the roof of the church in the rain. It was dark out, and he was watching the drops fly past the street light across the road. It was midnight and the only reason Bis wasn't inside was because it was his turn to watch the perimeter. Jenks and his children were inside, sleeping, and Bis only had a four hour shift before he could go back inside his belfry and out of the rain.

He heard the sound of leathery wings and looked up in surprise as an older gargoyle landed next to him on the roof. "Room for another?" the older creature asked him, his voice gravelly.

Bis felt rather uncomfortable as he stared at the dark shadow. "I'm not sure you can stay here," he said quietly.

The larger gargoyle hissed at him, "And why not?"

Bis shrugged, "This isn't my church. I'm here because I pay rent."

The gargoyle stared at him, "You pay rent? How can you possibly afford that?"

Bis shrugged his shoulders again, not willing to say how. "I think you should leave," he said, "Before the owner wakes up and comes back."

"And what if I don't?" the other gargoyle asked angrily, and Bis had a sneaking suspicion he had been kicked off another church roof recently.

"I can't let you stay here," Bis said, trying his best to sound like he wasn't scared. "You need to leave."

Bis let the rain falling on him to soak into his skin and he slowly grew in size as he moved toward the other gargoyle. "Get off my roof," he hissed, still scared but feeling surer of himself as he knew that Jenks would come to his aide if he couldn't make the bully go away.

He watched as the gargoyle seemed to think things over and then lifted his wings. "I can take a hit," the gargoyle muttered and flew away, leaving Bis alone on the rooftop. He sighed in relief, happy that he wouldn't have to cry for help. He settled back down, watching the shadow fly away into the night. He felt a sense of pride, knowing he had protected the church, even if it was just from a stray gargoyle.


	39. Strange

Skimmer sat in the jail cell, unhappy about the ugly orange jumpsuit she was forced to wear. Her hair lay down her back, the blonde strands dull from the lack of good conditioner available to her. While she was still able to do her work from the jail cell, all of the amenities she had grown used to were now completely non-existent. It felt strange to not be able to spend an hour just on her hair, let along her makeup too.

She hated this prison life. She was high up on the chain, there was no doubt of that, but there was nothing she wanted that the other prisoners had to offer.

To get her mind off her predicament, Skimmer picked up her paperwork, going over everything. She was still angry at that stupid witch of Ivy's, and she was intent on ruining the woman. But she still had her day job, and that tended to keep her busy.

Having something to focus on helped her get through the days, but it didn't stop her anger from boiling from time to time, and it showed in her cell. Some of the cement blocks that made up the cell were superficially cracked while there was a great big dent in the toilet. The prison refused to replace the toilet a second time, so she was stuck with the awkwardness now.

She heard the guard walking down the hall, heading toward her. Because of the nature of her arrest, and her apparent short temper, Skimmer was not allowed to eat her meals in the common area, and so her food was delivered to her. None of it was ever blood.

She scowled as the guard opened her cell door and slid the plastic tray onto her tiny desk in front of her. Mashed potatoes, cream corn, and chicken again. She hadn't had red meat once since she was brought down here, and she wondered if they were doing it on purpose. She was pretty sure it was some sort of punishment inflicted upon her by the guards, and she would remember this slight when she was freed from prison.

She watched as the guard locked the door again and headed back down the hallway. She put her papers down and pulled the tray toward her. No matter how much she detested the food, she was hungry. And she seemed to be hungry all the time these days.


	40. Shampoo

**Agh! I ordered a personalized copy of Ever After and it **_**still**_** hasn't come in! I'm trying desperately to avoid any place where I might come across spoilers. Agh! I'm debating buying a second copy at the local bookstore just to deal with the anticipation. **

I was taking a shower when I heard the bell ring from the sanctuary. Knowing that Jenks and his children were capable of opening the door, I leaned back and let the water rinse the shampoo out of my hair, taking my time to clean off. I tried to think of who it could be, but came up with nothing. Perhaps it was someone for Ivy, but she wasn't around.

I was just hanging up my loofa when I heard the clatter of pixy wings from the other side of the shower curtain. "Rache," Jenks said, as I turned off the water. "The cookie maker wants to see you."

I heard the pixy snicker, and I hit the shower curtain, refusing to open it until he was gone. "Trent's here?" I asked, and Jenks chirped his wings.

"Yup, says he needs to speak to you."

"Tell him I'll be out in a few minutes." I said, and waited until the sound of his wings disappeared under the bathroom door before I pulled the curtain back and stepped out onto the cold washroom floor. I quickly toweled off and opened the dryer to see if I had any clothes I could put on. I found a pair of sweats and I pulled them out. This was my church, and I shouldn't have to dress up when I had unexpected visitors.

I pulled the sweater over my head and hopped into the pants and looked in the mirror. My hair was dripping wet still, and I quickly sprayed it with detangler before wrestling a brush through it. What was Trent doing in my church anyway?

I finally pulled the mass of wet hair into a ponytail and headed to the door. I opened it a crack and peeked out into the church. The air was cooler outside the washroom and my bare feet protested as they hit the cold floors. I looked out into the sanctuary but found no sign of Trent, and figured Jenks had brought him into the back living room.

I slipped into my bedroom to grab a pair of socks and then moved further into the church. Sure enough, Trent wasn't in the kitchen, but Jenks' kids were tormenting the cat as I walked by. I stepped into the living room to find Trent sitting on the couch with Jenks standing on his knee. The two were having a conversation, and I was struck by how well they seemed to go together.

I moved across the room and plopped down in the chair across from the couch, leaning over to put my socks on. When I looked up, I found both blonde men staring at me. "What?" I asked, straightening up and wiggling my toes in the warmth of the socks.

Jenks lifted off from Trent's knee, "Boy, Rachel, you sure have class," he said and then zipped away, leaving me alone with Trent.

I shrugged and looked at Trent, "You interrupted my shower. I'm not going to try and impress you when you have such bad timing."

Trent simply raised an eyebrow, and I folded my legs under me to try and hide my discomfort. "So what do you want?" I asked.

"It's about Lucy," Trent said, leaning forward.

I froze, staring at him. "Is there something wrong?" I asked, but Trent quickly shook his head, easing my fears.

"I was wondering if you could look after her for a weekend. Ceri and I need to go somewhere, and Quen is coming with us of course. Ceri suggested that you take care of her for a few days. I think she wants the two of you to bond."

I felt like grinning. They wanted me to take care of Lucy. But then something occurred to me, "What about Ray?"

Trent shrugged, "Ceri already has someone lined up for Ray, but we figured since you were Lucy's godmother you might like to spend some time with her."

I nodded slowly, "I think I'd like that," I said.

"Then it's settled. I'll swing by Friday night with Lucy, and explain her schedule," Trent said, already standing from the couch. I stood with him, not wanting him to go just yet.

"Why not tell me now?" I asked, and Trent paused.

"I'd feel better if I could get you a written schedule," he said, hesitating.

I shrugged, "I can write everything down, Trent. You'll be right beside me. Don't you trust me?"

I watched him think for a moment, and then he nodded. "Alright. We could discuss it now."

I led Trent into the kitchen and sat him at the table. I quickly grabbed some paper and pens from Ivy's side of the table and sat across from him. And then we discussed Lucy.


	41. Giggle

I was sitting on the floor in the sanctuary with Lucy sprawled on a blanket in front of me. Her legs and arms were in the air as she waved her little hands in the air as she tried in vain to catch the pixy children above her. I watched as Jrixibell dipped closer to the baby and held my breath as Lucy's tiny fingers brushed the little pixy girl's dress.

The sound of Lucy's giggle mixed with the laughter of the winged children and I felt that this was the best afternoon I had had in a long while. I was ecstatic that both Trent and Ceri had trusted me with the baby, and I had spent every moment she was awake entertaining the little elf child. Her wispy hair and tiny pointed ears were endearing and I found it very difficult to not cater to her every whim.

The pixies were equally enamoured of the baby, and we were all a bit sad to see her go in a few hours. Lucy, on the other hand, was more preoccupied with watching Rex while the cat was in the room than anything else. At the moment, Rex was outside, avoiding the baby's keen interest.

I heard Ivy move from her bedroom to the washroom and I poked Lucy in the tummy. "Aunt Ivy just got up," I said, grinning at the child. "Aunt Ivy was out late last night."

I tickled Lucy and she giggled again, grabbing onto my hair with her fists. I quickly lifted her off the blanket and stood, naturally putting Lucy on my hip. I padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge to pull out a bottle. Trent had given me a very strict schedule to follow, but I felt giving her the bottle a few minutes early wouldn't hurt.

I set about warming the bottle of milk, Lucy still hanging on to me. Jenks buzzed into the kitchen. "They're early," he announced and I looked at him.

"Trent and Ceri?" I asked, and he nodded.

Sighing, I turned off the stove and put the bottle back in the fridge. "Well, let them in," I said, hugging Lucy closer to me. She babbled in my ear as her fingers tugged on my stray curls. Jenks left the room, a trail of golden dust sifting to the floor. I followed after him and watched as he worked the pulley system to open the door before Trent could ring the bell.

The two elves were just coming up the steps and they came into the church quietly. I moved closer and Lucy recognized them, and she started to coo with excitement, her hands reaching out. I couldn't tell who she wanted to see more but it became apparent went Trent moved close to me to take her from my arms. She grew quiet, her green eyes staring up at her father with happiness.

I felt my pulse speed up at being so close to Trent and I backed up a step, unsure of that reaction. "She's been nothing but an angel," I announced. "Anytime you want me to sit for you, I'll try to be free."

Ceri came forward and I watched her fuss with the baby. "Thank you, Rachel," she said and then smiled at me. Lucy squirmed to look at me from her father's arms and I waved my fingers at her.

I stepped back and turned to the kitchen. "Let me get her things," I said and disappeared down the hall.

A wave of pixies flew by in the other direction, all of the children intent on saying their farewell to the child. We had enjoyed her company, and the church would be quieter with her absence. I entered the kitchen, grabbed the full bottles from the fridge and put them in the waiting bag that was sitting on the table. I had packed everything up earlier, knowing she was leaving this afternoon. Once I was sure everything was safely stowed away in the bag, I lifted it and lugged it back toward the sanctuary. Lucy was fussing, and when I came closer I realized she was crying because she wanted to see me again. I dropped the bag on the ground next to Trent and quickly stole Lucy from his arms. "Aww, I promise I'll come visit," I said, dropping a kiss on her tiny nose.

Tren snatched her back and she started to cry again. Ceri intervened, picking Lucy up quickly, and I wondered how many times the poor baby was passed from adult to adult. Trent picked up the bag, and headed for the door, and I was hurt by his quick departure. Ceri smiled at me apologetically. "We've had a long weekend. I think he just wants to get home and relax. Thank you for taking care of Lucy."

I hugged Ceri, "I loved every minute of it," I said. "And I'm pretty sure the pixies did, too."

There was a chorus of agreement from the rafters, and Ceri looked up, beaming at them all. "Well, I thank each and every one of you."

I walked Ceri out and stood on the step, watching as the car drove away.


	42. Teeth

**OMG I am SO angry right now. Canada Post screwed up SO BAD they sent my copy of the book BACK to the book store with a statement that I don't live at my address anymore. No one knocked on my door. No one left me a slip letting me know my book was at the post office. ARG! So they're sending it out again tomorrow morning, but to my work address. Arg. I have to wait another week! :'(**

Glenn was sitting with Rachel, Ivy, and David. They had met at the church for some down time, and Glenn had been tempted into the occasion with the offer of free pizza. He had already kicked Rachel's butt at pool and David was now trying to convince him to play. Glenn's eyes kept straying to the pizza boxes sitting on the low coffee table in the centre of the makeshift waiting area.

He always found himself impressed by the way Rachel and Ivy had arranged the furniture throughout the church, truly turning into not only a home, but a workplace as well. Except, perhaps Rachel's desk, which was gathering dust in the corner.

He looked over at Ivy, who was stretched out on the couch, her long body catching his attention. It was impossible to see Ivy as anything but a woman, and quite often he had had to oppress his sexual thoughts. But tonight, he felt more relaxed, and he found himself looking her over. Her straight black hair spoke of her Asian heritage, but her long limbs were all curve and muscle. Whenever she smiled, her white teeth attracted his attention, and he wondered what it would feel like to be bitten by her.

Rachel put down the pool cue and headed toward the coffee table. "Well, if we're not going to play anymore, let's eat," she said, popping open one of the pizza boxes. The smell of hot cheese and tomato sauce came to him, and Glenn moved out of the chair he had been sitting in to grab a large slice. "Smells good," he announced before biting into the piece.

The group sat in silence, enjoying the food. When Ivy had finished her second piece, she stood up. Glenn's eyes followed her as she walked over to the table. "Well, how about you play me, Glenn?" she asked.

He gulped down his last piece of pizza, "Don't mind if I do," he said, standing up and following her to the table.

Ivy smiled at him, "I hope you know you're not going to win."

Glenn grinned, racking the balls up. "I'd like to see you try and beat me."

"Oh, I will," she said quietly, her voice seductive. Glenn felt a thrill go down his spine. He looked over at her and she smiled again, showing him her tiny fangs. He wondered. But no, she couldn't possibly be trying to come on to him. Could she?


	43. Hot

Al wiped the sweat off his brow and then went back to stirring the ingredients. Ever since he had given Pierce to Newt, he had been stirring his own curses. The fire was burning high, and the demon felt extremely hot. But he needed the flames a certain level to get the curse right, and he was almost ready to place the little bowl over the fire.

He sprinkled clock dust into the mix, stirred it clockwise and turned to the fire with the pot. He shoved the pot over the flames, being careful not to set his sleeve on fire. He held it for thirty seconds and quickly stepped back, putting the pot back on the counter.

He grabbed the fennel seeds and sprinkled them into the curse, and gave it one last twist of the spoon before he was satisfied that the curse was complete. He poured the curse into a bottle and corked it, not intending on using the curse until he absolutely needed it.

Over the past few weeks, he had come to learn just how time consuming stirring curses actually was. He was frustrated that he had to do everything on his own, but he vowed to make sure his next familiar would do twice the amount of curses he had had Pierce do. This way, he'd never run out.

Al put the curse on the shelf above the counter, and then turned back to the fire. Since it was still roaring in the pit, he figured he'd cook supper. He moved across the kitchen, opening cupboards to look around. He heard a pop and he stood up straight to see an unfamiliar demon standing by the fire. "Do you have no manners?" Al roared, angry that people were bugging him at all hours of the day.

To have a fellow demon intrude on his personal space was not allowable. But suddenly, the demon was laughing and he watched with his anger growing as Ku'sox changed his image to his original one. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.

Ku'sox sat down next to the fire. "I'm here for my next payment."

Al slammed down the cheese he had just grabbed. "Well, you've robbed me blind. I've got nothing at the moment."

Ku'sox tutted and Al watched nervously as the demon turned to look at the shelves lining the room. "That's not true, Algaliarept. Look at this," he stood and went to the counter, reaching up to grab the curse Al had just stirred. "This, and a few others will suffice just nice," he said, beginning to grab the hard work Al had put into bottles.

Before Al could protest, though, Ku'sox grabbed one last bottle, tilted his head in farewell, and was gone.

Al growled and before he could stop himself, he threw the block of cheese into the fire. "Son of an elf!" he roared, and the shadow figure on the tapestry flew into the corner of the rug, hiding from his wrath.

"I am tired of this!" Al growled, angry that all his potions were gone. He would have to start all over again. That cursed Ku'sox would be the end of him.


	44. Gopher

**Here's a short little one. My bird's name is Jax, so I thought I should write one for him. :)**

Jax hovered next to his father, watching as the gopher retreated, scurrying across the road and away from their garden. Jenks chirped his wings, and Jax watched with glee as the gopher jumped midstride and then bolted into the yard across the way.

Jax turned to his father, "He won't be coming back!" he said, grinning from ear to ear.

"You did a good job," Jenks said, and Jax nearly glowed with happiness at the compliment from his father. Jenks had given Jax the job of escorting the gopher off their property before it could start making its tunnels. Gophers were dangerous to gardens, and Jax took the job extremely seriously.

His father had only helped a little, and Jax felt like he was well on his way to becoming a runner. He still thought that learning to read was a bit silly, but he was always excited to learn new fighting techniques. "Thanks!" Jax said, "He sure won't be back!"

The two pixies turned away from the cowering gopher across the street and headed back across the garden, making a slow circuit of the grounds. "No, he certainly won't. And with any luck, he'll tell his friends to stay away." Jenks zipped down and plucked a dandelion out of the ground by the roots, making sure none of the fluffs got away.

Jax was excited. Soon, he would be heading out on his own. He knew if he stayed with his parents any longer they would kick him out themselves. He was itching to be in the action, anyhow, and he wasn't picky about where he found it. Jax simply wanted to live.

Life was more than just caring for plants. Jax felt certain of this. Life was about living – having his heart beat fast, feeling the adrenaline rush. He didn't need a wife. Jax needed a _job. _


	45. Sneeze

I sat on the sparring mat in the sanctuary, stretching after a good workout. It felt good to be back in a routine, and having both my physical abilities and my magical abilities made me feel more secure and able to take on whatever came my way.

I stood from my stretching position and lifted my arms above my head, feeling the muscles in my shoulders clench and stretch. I was just reaching up on my tiptoes when a sneeze ripped through me, startling me and sending me stumbling away from the padded mats.

"Tink's titties, don't blow your head off!" Jenks said from the pixy holy in one of the last few stained glass windows. He chuckled to himself as another sneeze came over me and I realized someone was calling me.

Ignoring Jenks, I headed for the kitchen, intent on getting my scrying mirror before someone rudely interrupted me physically. I scrambled into the kitchen to find Ivy sitting at the table, typing away at her computer. I ignored her curious look as I bent down below the counter and pulled the scrying mirror from its spot. I sneezed again.

Splaying my fingers over the wine coloured glass, I closed my eyes and concentrated. As soon as the line opened, I hissed through my teeth, "What the hell do you want?"

_Rachel Mariana Morgan?_ The voice that was in my head was decidedly not Al's. Or Newt's. First anger, then relief, and finally fear slipped through me.

"Yes. This better be good."

_I was wondering if you were willing to sell me, a… _the voice trailed off for a second and I opened my eyes to stare at Ivy. She was mouthing something at me, but this wasn't a serious call, so I wasn't going to play charades with her about some demon who wanted something.

"A what?" I prompted, eager to turn him down.

_A tulpa,_ the voice said quickly, _I'd love a tulpa of Atlantis. It was such a beautiful –_

"Look buddy, I don't know why no one has told you, but my services aren't for sale. And while the idea of Atlantis sounds lovely, I simply do not have the time to go making every tulpa a demon asks me to. So the answer's no."

_I'd be willing to –_

"No!" I growled and broke the connection. I shoved the mirror back under the counter and stood up. I glanced over at Ivy. "More demon solicitors?" she asked, laughing to herself.

"I've had enough of this!" I said, gesturing toward the mirror. "They all need to leave me alone."

Ivy smirked, "Tell Al. I'm sure if he gets mad enough, he'll make sure they stop calling."

I frowned at my roommate. As much as I hated to ask Al for help, she had a point. Perhaps I'd broach the subject with him the next time I had a lesson. "Maybe," I relented to her and then sat across from her at the table. "Demons really have no sense of respect," I said, and dropped my head into my arms.


	46. Marshmallow

Ivy walked up the stairs to the apartment above Piscary's to find Kisten in the kitchenette. He had a tray of fresh brimstone cookies lying on the counter and he was just plopping some miniature marshmallows into hot cocoa. Ivy's usual drink was orange juice, but the thought of hot cocoa on such a cold night was definitely inviting.

She strode across the apartment to Kisten and put her arms around his waist. She felt him tense for a second and then he relaxed. "How was your day at the office?" he asked mildly, handing her a mug of cocoa. Ivy took it gratefully and stepped away from him.

"Frustrating," Ivy said, trying to remove the boring deskwork from her mind. "So what's with the cocoa?" she asked, plucking a marshmallow from the drink and putting it in her mouth. She let it melt between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and then swallowed, her eyes on Kisten.

Kisten moved forward with his own mug and the platter of cookies in his hands. Ivy followed him into the living area and they sank into the couch together. Kisten placed the platter of cookies on the coffee table and grabbed one for himself before settling next to Ivy. Ivy took a sip of her cocoa and relaxed against Kisten.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" Ivy asked, as she listened to Kirsten munch on the little cookie.

Kisten shrugged against her, and finished off the rest of the cookie before putting his arm around her shoulders. "I like working at the pizza place," he admitted.

Ivy curled her legs under her and pressed further into Kisten, enjoying his warmth. "I don't mean the job," she said, looking up into his blue eyes. "I mean this life. Living under Piscary's shadow. We can only go so far before he finds a way to rein us in."

Kisten was quiet for some time, sipping on his cocoa. Ivy reached forward and grabbed a cookie, popping the entire thing in her mouth.

"We were born into this," Kisten said finally. "We don't have much choice." She felt his fingers brush her shoulder through her shirt.

"I know," she said slowly, "But what if you could leave this life. Would you?"

Ivy watched his face as he contemplated her words. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't think so. There are times when I hate Piscary, but I love him. I can't _stop_ loving him, Ivy."

Kisten looked down into her eyes, hoping to find understanding in her eyes. But Ivy couldn't understand it. She loved Piscary, she really did. But if she was given the option to live free without the master vampire watching her every move, she'd take it. "I'd like Kisten," she told him, resting her head against his chest. "I'd leave in a heartbeat."

She felt Kisten's arm tighten around her and she pressed into him, hoping he wouldn't think she'd leave him, too.


	47. Frown

**OMG! OMG! After weeks of waiting, my book finally came in! Canada Post sent it to the **_**wrong address**_** originally and it was (thankfully) returned to sender. So I had them send it to me at work. And I just got it! I can't wait to start reading! Eeee!**

Quen was seated across from Trenton in his office. The frown on Trenton's face indicated his displeasure with his security officer, but Quen really didn't care. He was employed to protect his Sa'han, not coddle him. "I have a right to know where you are going, Sa'han," he said patiently, "I need to determine the risks before I let you just waltz out of here."

Trenton leaned back in his chair and eyed Quen. Quen didn't flinch away from the calculating stare. He knew better than to let Trenton get away with whatever he wanted. He had been loosening his leash on the business man as of late, but he was still just as intent on doing his job properly as he was just a few years before.

So long as Trenton gave him a valid reason for leaving the compound without security, Quen was happy to let him go. But he wasn't going to budge unless he knew exactly where Trenton was. It's not that he didn't want Trenton to have his privacy; he was just too concerned about his Sa'han's wellbeing.

Trenton finally leaned forward again. "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to go for a drive?"

Quen raised an eyebrow and his boss shrugged. "It couldn't hurt to try," Trenton admitted. Quen watched as Trenton's shoulders relaxed and he knew he was about to hear the truth. "I wanted to drop by Rachel's church," he admitted.

Quen raised both his eyebrows this time, clearly surprised. He leaned forward, "Might I ask why, Sa'han."

He watched as Trenton shut down again and Quen knew he would only get half-truths out of his Sa'han.

"I thought I'd stop to talk to Jenks, offer him a job again." Trenton had enjoyed working with the pixy and could see the benefit of having the little man on his payroll. Quen, though, knew Jenks wasn't the only reason Trenton was going to the church.

"And will you see Rachel?" Quen asked, enjoying the momentary look of surprise and embarrassment that crossed Trenton's face. He quickly masked it, but Quen had always been able to see through Trenton's acts.

Trenton finally shrugged, "If she's there, I have no doubt I'll have to see her to get to Jenks."

Quen forced back a chuckle. He knew the real reason Trenton was going to the church even if he wasn't going to get it from him. Quen stood, "Well, if you're just going to Rachel's I have no issue with you going by yourself. Have a good afternoon, Sa'han," Quen bowed his head to his boss and quickly left the office, shutting the door softly behind him.

He headed down the hall, wondering if Trenton would eventually get his act together when it came to that witch.


	48. Ice Cream

I was sitting beside Jasmine by the campfire, waiting impatiently for the counselor to bring over the promised ice cream. I was feeling out of breath, but it was a common feeling for me. I was used to it, but I wondered what life would be like if I never felt this way.

Jasmine leaned her head against mine, "What do you think of him?" she whispered, and I followed her gaze to Trent and Lee sitting on the other side of the fire. I felt an odd thread of unease slip through me as I wondered which boy Jasmine was referring to, but then I shook my head, "They're both horrible," I said.

"What do you mean?" Jasmine asked, getting defensive.

"They're bullies, the both of them," I said.

"They just enjoy teasing," Jasmine said, her dark eyes still focused on the pair.

"Which one are you talking about?" I asked.

"Trenton. I think he's cute," my friend admitted, and a rock seemed to lodge itself in my stomach. It must be because I could barely stand the boy. There was something so off about him.

"He can't even find himself friends that don't beat up on him," I said, trying to convince Jasmine that he simply wasn't worth looking at.

"I wouldn't beat him up," Jasmine said dreamily and I thought about Trenton asking me about her. My heart sank, and I couldn't figure out why.

The distraction of the counselors coming over with the ice cream had me jumping up from the log we were sitting on. "Come on, it's time for dessert," I said, forcing an edge of happiness into my voice.

I headed over to the table that had been set up for the ice cream stations, not bothering to see if Jasmine would catch up with me. I quickly got in line and was surprised to find Trenton stepping up behind me. I felt my heart thump quicker, and I looked away from the blond boy, my gaze intent on the ice cream being handed out in front of me.

I didn't want Jasmine to like Trent. She _shouldn't_ like him. Even an interest in Lee seemed like a better idea to me, at least in Jasmine's case. Was Trent really that much worse than Lee? I peeked behind me and noticed he was watching Jasmine make her way into the line. My breath came in shorter, and I found it not only hard to breathe but to concentrate.

I just didn't like him. At all.


	49. Cat

Rex flicked her tail back and forth, watching the pixies flit above her. She liked the pixy children, she really did, but there were times when they tormented her to the point of no return. At the moment they were pelting each other with little plastic balls filled with water. Every now and then a stray ball would fling her way, and Rex would have to jump to avoid them.

They were having fun but she wasn't.

She'd leave, but the colourful dust that fell from them entranced her. She would often just sit and watch the pixies just to see how their dust would disperse into the air around them. With her keen cat sight, she could watch a single speck of pixy dust for hours. And sometimes she did.

At the moment though, if Rex could get her paws on the little hellions, she would. Unfortunately for her, they were too high up in the air for her to reach. She didn't bother to try jumping. She had tried in the past and new her own capabilities. It would be futile, and if she drew their attention they'd focus their shots at her instead of themselves.

She'd learned the hard way.

She heard the witch enter the church, and she stopped watching the pixies long enough to watch the redhead walk toward her. She thought about giving the witch some warning, but changed her mind. She watched with some satisfaction as the pixies pelted the woman with splat balls.

Rex watched, completely entertained as the woman dropped her bag and tried to fend off her attackers. When the pixies had run out of splat balls, and the woman was sufficiently drenched, the children swarmed her, talking a mile a minute.

Rex decided to leave now that the show was over. She turned toward the kitchen and hightailed it out of the sanctuary before the pixies remembered she was there. She left the church and headed across the garden, intent on the graveyard. The graveyard was a perfect hunting spot for her, and she spent a lot of her time catching mice to supplement the dry diet of cat food.

The cat sat down at the foot of the angel statue and stared out into the overgrown cemetery. All she had to do was wait patiently and eventually, the mice would come.

Sometimes, Rex thought, life as a cat was great.


	50. Volkswagen

I stood next to Ivy with Jenks sitting on my shoulder. The wayward witch we had been trying to catch was careening down the street in his little Volkswagen Beetle, burning rubber as his tires squealed. I looked at Ivy, and found her looking back at me with an eyebrow raised. "Should we take the bus?" she asked, and I glowered for a second.

I followed her across the street to where her motorcycle sat. She quickly swung her leg over the seat and stood the bike up, starting it. I climbed on the back and felt Jenks nestle into the scarf that I wore around my neck. I put on my helmet, watched as Ivy put hers on, and then we were off, driving at a steady pace.

The witch we were chasing was running from us, but we knew where he was headed. We were chasing him down for the insurance company, but I had no doubt that the witch didn't realize we knew where he lived. Traffic was steady as we crossed over into the Hollows. Ivy soon turned her bike down a side street, and we wandered through the residential areas. As the yards became dirtier, my anticipation rose. Sure enough, as we turned a final corner, there was the Volkswagen, parked in the driveway of a tiny, compact house.

Ivy cut the engine on the bike and we coasted to a stop in front of the house. I quickly jumped off and opened my scarf for Jenks to fly free. He shook himself and I watched as red dust fell to the ground.

Ivy headed for the front door while I moved past the Beetle and into the backyard. I knew he'd run the moment Ivy rang the door, and I was ready for him. I couldn't figure out why he'd be running when he only owed the company a few thousand dollars, but I wasn't surprised either.

As the witch came exploding from the house, I realized this was the first real run Ivy and I had had in a good long while. I grinned as the witch saw me. His eyes grew wide and he turned to vault over the rickety backyard fence into his neighbour's yard.

I heard Jenks' wings clattering and I knew he was relaying this information to Ivy. I took off at a run and easily jumped the fence after the guy, and I cleared it just in time to see him hightailing it down the drive. I followed, my boots thunking loudly against the broken concrete.

I heard a terrified yelp and I caught sight of Ivy tackling the witch, and I winced as I watched him skid across the road. His elbows were not going to be happy. I raced after Ivy and watched with satisfaction as she fastened her cuffs to his wrists. She looked up at me, grinning. "We need to do this more often," she said.

I nodded, "I've missed it," I agree.

Jenks chirped his wings in agreement, and Ivy and I hauled the witch up.

God, it was good to be a runner.

**So Volkswagen was my fiftieth word! The plan had been to write only fifty chapters, and well, I'm completed that plan. I've had a lot of fun writing these, and I'm sad to see the end. So sad that I'd be willing to continue writing these if you, the readers, want me to. But I need input – lots of it! I know we're a quiet bunch, us Hollows readers, but I'm giving you the option of weighing in on my creative efforts!**

**If you want me to continue writing these chapters, I'm going to need some suggestions. I already have 66 more words over at my blog, but I'm not sure if I'm going to use them for the Hollows. If you want to continue seeing these little fics, either let me know in the reviews or head over to my blog to give me suggestions for words. **

**I'll make a direct link to the blog post to reply to on my main profile here on . You ****do not need**** a Wordpress account to reply to my blog, so you can add suggestions anonymously if you'd like. :) If you'd like to go to it from this page, just type in "kogoshuko . wordpress . com" plus the following:**

**/2013/02/15/50-word-challenge-flash-fiction-completed/**

**In any case, if you **_**do**_** want me to continue to write, I'm going to need a break for a few weeks. I'm currently reading Ever After and I'm considering writing parts of it in Trent's perspective at some point, as I have had requests for that in the past.**

**So let me know if you'd like to see more Where Demons Dare. I've had fun writing it for everyone! :)**

**Cheers! **


End file.
